


i walk in deep waters

by reinacadeea



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, UNTIL THEY DON'T, bit au, everyone works in a hotel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinacadeea/pseuds/reinacadeea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick never followed his dreams and never went on to DJ for BBC. Instead, he's working at a hotel and sometimes he even thinks he's happy. Then Louis brings in his friend to help during the busy months and Nick is unsurprisingly charmed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>or, Harry's a flighty thing, Nick is going to fight Caroline for it and late night McDonalds confessions</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nick pays little interest to the reserve waiters coming in and out during the year. Sometimes they are there a lot and sometimes they’re around two times in a month and he won’t see them again for three. Aimee says the new reserve is well fit and apparently one of Louis’ best friends. Louis’ is a third year trainee, almost done and although he’s a bit (understatement) cheeky, he gets the job done. Anyone he’d recommend to the job would probably do well. 

Yet, nothing quite readies him for actually meeting Louis’ friend. With all that curly-haired charm and big-toothed smile makes Nick Grimshaw a very charmed man. His legs are fit into a tight pair of trousers, black of course per uniform code and a blue tie over a white dress shirt and vest, probably borrowed off of Louis. 

‘Hi, I’m Harry,’ he introduces himself and Nick who weren’t quite paying attention because of the guests in the a la carte restaurant, does a double-take and fixes his quiff nervously. 

‘Have we met?’ is the first thing out of his mouth and they probably have and it’ll be all kinds of awkward when Nick’s shagged him in an alcoholic daze and then proceeded to promptly forget him. 

‘Maybe,’ Harry says with a shrug, so no awkwardness then. 

‘Service,’ Niall, one of the cook trainees, shouts and the foods ready for his guest. 

‘Thanks,’ Nick says and moves on swiftly. 

Tristan Park Hotel sits right in the middle of London and hosts some of the larger conferences in the UK. There’s about ten fully employed waiters and about seven trainees. They have one main kitchen, two adjoining kitchens and they can host about seven hundred people at once. It’s a bit shit job, but Nick sort of likes it as well. It fits his mentality and all his friends are here now. There’s Caroline who he finished with and Finchy, who’s the new souschef, has quickly become one of his closest friends, despite Finchy technically being his boss. 

They’ve only got two hundred for lunch that day, so they’ll be in their main lunch hall and Nick watches Harry and though he’s a bit clumsy, reminding Nick of himself when he first started out some eight years ago, he makes it up with pure charm and a willingness to learn. 

Caroline’s charmed that’s for sure, blushing and ducking her head. Harry’s got a fair bit of height on her and Nick’s got a fair bit of height on her, so he’s a bit mad actually. Harry is lovely and Nick is going to fight for a shot at this. Later he overhears Zayn, one of the other trainees, asking Harry where he was staying the night, which Harry replies with a shrug and a look in Caroline’s direction, the dirty bastard. And Caroline probably would even considering the age gap that is certainly there. She’s thirty plus and he’s certainly not, not that that makes Nick’s attraction that much better since he almost as ancient as she is. 

‘Could you at least find something permanent soon?’ Zayn says all worried like. ‘You can like sleep at ours if you like.’ 

‘Maybe,’ Harry replies and if Nick hadn’t heard Harry having a rather long conversation with some customer about Man U’s latest chances for winning championship, he would probably believe Harry is incapable of saying anything but ‘maybe’ and shrug. 

So Harry leaves with Caroline and she tells Nick the next that they’d gone for coffee and nachos and he’d stayed over at hers for the night. She’s not hiding anything and she looks ridiculously pleased with herself so he’s got to have skills, the bastard. 

He works a lot at the hotel through October, November and December, gathering more and more shift and charming his way through most of the staff. He is apparently regular part of the ‘lads’, meaning Louis, Zayn, the cook trainee Niall and one of their AVs Liam. They’re all at a similar age, with Harry apparently being the youngest. He’s there because they asked him to come and he’s clearly a part of their little circle, which a lot of the other trainees have tried to be a part of, but no one have really succeeded at. 

Nick is busy like he always is through the fall months, but somehow Harry starts building bridges between waiters, trainees and reserves, who had all had their own petty arguments most days. They even have footie on Sunday mornings, inviting everyone at the hotel. Harry, Nick discovers, is like some sort of beacon through the grey murk that is his lonely life. Harry shines for everyone and it’s like everyone is pulled in by him. That doesn’t change the fact that Harry’s pretty shit at footie, so Nick keeps him company, huddled together with cans of hot water and tea bags. 

Harry drifts through life, sleeping on sofas and spare beds at friends’ houses. His family lives in the north, near Nick’s own. He travels when he can with whatever means necessary and writes stupid shit in a little leather-bound notebook he keeps with him always. His clothes are worn and his Instagram says shit like ‘The difference between doing something and not doing something is doing something’. He lives the sort of life that Nick wishes he had lived when he was that age, floating through his young years instead of wanting too much only to fail. The most precious thing he apparently owns is his Range Rover that Nick for the whole world can’t figure out how he pays for, considering the state of his clothes. 

After the first Christmas party of the season, the whole wait staff gets off at the same time and they head to the nearest pub, taking up most of the space and being generally loud. Louis and Zayn’s girlfriends are around and Aimee’s snogging Ian in the corner. Caroline’s got a new squeeze, but she’s eyeing Harry like always. They’d ended amicably, but Nick knows Harry’s slept at hers lately. 

‘I nearly hit her!’ Nick tells the story for the thousand time and everyone around the table laughs, except Louis who finds him so exceptionally unfunny, Nick sometimes wonder what he’d done to offend him.

‘She couldn’t possibly have been that bad,’ Niall laughs. 

‘She was mental, all right,’ Nick says mock-serious. ‘Straight of the ward, which wouldn’t actually be all that odd since the hospital’s in walking distance.’ 

He’s got his right eye on Harry at the bar, a man running slender fingers over Harry’s arm. He’s got to be at least forty, but Harry’s leaning into it, touching his red lips and Nick’s mesmerized. Harry’s never said he was straight, but Nick had quickly assumed and he’s never seen anything to the contrary. But Harry’s flirting and Nick is simultaneously wanting it and being quite mad that it’s not him. 

Harry’s nineteen and all sorts of stuff could happen with a man that much older, but he never feels young. The only young people he surrounds himself with are Louis, Zayn, Niall and Liam, like they’re the only people who get some part of him and like they are the only people Harry really opens up to. Louis had once said they were brothers in all but blood and Nick has wondered when that has happened, when you got so close with someone. 

Fiona grabs his attention for a fleeting second and when he looks back at Harry, he’s gone. 

‘Excuse me,’ Nick says and struggles to get through the crowd, stepping on toes and probably hitting someone with his jacket. He’s got to see for himself… just… for himself. 

The older man’s got Harry pressed into the side of a taxi, hands on his hips and lips together. Harry’s leaning into it and Nick is right. Harry had been flirting. 

‘Hey, you,’ Nick shouts and grabs the bloke’s arm. ‘Get off!’ 

Harry stares at him all dazed-like and the man just looks pissed. 

‘He’s nineteen, you dirty old bastard!’ Nick tells him sternly. ‘Find someone your own age.’ 

The man backs off and takes an extra look at Harry. He’s still got hunger in his eyes, but sense seems to be coming back and he’s off down the street and away.

‘The fuck was that for?’ Harry says and Nick’s never seen him mad before. 

‘He was going to take advantage of you,’ Nick says and it is such a bad excuse. His voice is stupid and did a little wobble. 

‘It’s sex,’ Harry says. ‘I’m not going to have a relationship with him.’ 

‘It’s just…’ Nick says and he’s never lost for words, but he is now. 

Harry sighs. ‘You cost me the shag, so give me McDonalds and we’ll call it even.’ 

Nick agrees and because it’s London, things are always bloody open. The McDonalds employees give them the eye, but they’re sharing their third McFlurry and sixth coffee, so they can’t throw them out, not really. Harry talks slowly about the things he saw in America once, about going to his mate’s farm in the south and tasting Doctor Pepper. Then he tells Nick about travelling in Europe and Nick wonders how he can be so young and how he can have already seen so much. 

‘Can I ask you something?’ Nick asks and Harry looks up from his pile of crumpled tissue. ‘Are you bisexual?’ 

Harry shrugs. 

‘That’s not exactly an answer,’ Nick remarks. 

‘It’s not, I suppose,’ Harry says. ‘It’s like, I don’t identify with like straight or gay or bisexual. It’s like fluid.’ 

‘What’s fluid?’ Nick asks dumbly. 

‘Like, my sexuality I guess,’ Harry says. ‘It’s about attraction and chemistry, not whether they’re a bloke or girl… or what age they are for that matter.’ 

‘Oh,’ and suddenly Harry makes a lot more sense in Nick’s mind. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ he says.

Harry smiles and they finally get up. They track towards Nick’s apartment slowly while it drizzles softly and Nick shivers, having lost most of the alcohol in his system and therefore the warmth it brings. Harry keeps brushing his shoulder, closer and closer, until they finally reach the flat and pillows and blankets. They discard clothes and Nick expects Harry to say goodnight and fall onto the sofa like he’s done before. But he follows Nick into his bedroom and lies down with his face towards Nick. 

They stare at each other for a while, for what seems like hours, until Nick softly murmurs: ‘I quite fancy you.’ 

‘I know,’ Harry whispers and leans forward to press their lips together. 

Nothing really changes after that, yet everything have. Harry still spends half the week somewhere else and rarely tells anyone. But he makes Nick tea and washes his clothes. They also kiss and Nick suddenly understands why Caroline can’t stop, not really. He can’t stop either. 

The SYCO Christmas party comes around the first Thursday of December. Every year Tristan Park hosts it and everyone from the lowliest footman to Simon bloody Cowell’s there. It’s one of those long ones that leave everyone tired and dead on their feet for days afterwards. The entertainment is good though and the bar is free. Everyone is happy. Finchy usually gets the high tables, but Simon Cowell wanted his to be in the middle, so Nick runs them instead because of Finchy rather recent knee injury. 

‘Who’s that?’ Simon Cowell asks around midnight and looks towards Harry, who is putting a bunch of wine glasses on a tray, meanwhile charming the knickers of some woman. 

‘Harry,’ Nick replied. ‘Do you want me to get him?’ 

‘No,’ Simon says. ‘He’s just got one of those faces.’

‘He really does,’ Nick agrees and pours Simon another whisky. 

He doesn’t really think about it, the fact that everyone is smitten by Harry bloody Styles in two seconds flat. The next morning they’re both off work and they properly shag for the first time, having both been weirdly hesitant about the whole thing. 

‘You’re happy,’ Aimee remarks later the same day and Nick doesn’t even pretend to joke it off. 

‘Yes,’ he says honestly. 

He’s never met anyone quite like Harry, someone who makes him laugh, who gets him and doesn’t bother correcting him. Harry gets not quite fitting in and not wanting to, taking advantage of what makes you different instead of making it something to be ashamed of. The way he talks is the way Nick sometimes wants to talk about things. He’s so different from Nick, yet they think so much alike. 

He should have treasured it more, held it closer to his heart. He should have asked for more and demanded Harry to be around more. They should have done more, been more… 

A few weeks after SYCO’s infamous dinner, Simon Cowell returns to Tristan Park and sits down in the bar with five other people, all serious-looking and stern-faced.

‘How may I help you today?’ Nick says brightly. 

‘Is Harry around?’ Simon asks. 

‘Why?’ Nick says and it might have come out a little rude. 

‘Harry Styles,’ Simon says. ‘Is he around today?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Can I speak to him?’ 

‘I suppose. Hold on a minute,’ Nick says with a fake smile and walks into the kitchen where Harry’s chatting with Niall and Louis. 

‘Why’s Simon Cowell asking for you?’ he says and Harry honestly looks surprised. 

‘He’s here?’ Louis says disbelieving. ‘Are you having me on?’ 

‘He asked about you at the party as well,’ Nick says. ‘I get the impression that he knows you.’ 

Harry pats Nick’s shoulder and suddenly gets a very serious look on his face. Nick follows him and Louis and Niall come as well. Harry walks towards Simon’s table confidently and pointedly shakes everyone’s hand at the table. It’s too low for Nick to hear what they are talking about, but Harry doesn’t look uncomfortable and then he starts singing. Somehow, it’s skipped Nick’s attention that Harry can sing and it good. It’s very good. 

 

I saw in the corner there is a photograph  
No doubt in my mind it's a picture of you  
It lies there alone in its bed of broken glass  
This bed was never made for two

I'll keep my eyes wide open  
I'll keep my arms wide open

Don't let me  
Don't let me  
Don't let me go  
'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone

Don't let me  
Don't let me go  
'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone

Harry trails off and Simon looks pleased. 

The people with Simon talks amongst themselves while Harry looks on and Nick can tell from the nervous clenching of his hands that something major is happening. He just for the life of him can’t figure out what. 

Then suddenly Harry's face breaks into a gigantic smile and he throws himself towards Simon and gives him a giantic hug. 'Thank you!' 

Simon smiles in reply and him and his studio friends get up to leave. Harry runs into the kitchen and throws himself into Louis' arms. 

'I got a recording contract!' he shouts. 

'That's sick!' Louis says and Niall exclaims something inaudible from behind the kitchen counter. 

'What company?' Zayn asks, appearing behind Nick. 

'SYCO,' Harry replies. 'Simon Cowell said that he'd seen me at one of Ed's shows and that he’d wanted to sign me for ages.' 

It's lovely. He's so happy for Harry, but a burning starts up in his chest and it doesn't lesson when Harry kisses him, bright-eyed and happy, lips tasting of champagne and broken hearts. 

The burning doesn't stop when Harry stops coming around Nick's flat, stops asking Nick to parties. It's like he's been forgotten and their relationship just sort of fizzles out and becomes less. Finchy brings in a new reserve to replace the gaping wide Harry's left behind. The work becomes more tiresome and the nights seem to drag on. Louis seems to resent him more than ever and then one morning in the middle of March, Nick turns on This Morning and Harry sits beside Ed Sheeran and they're both singing that song that was on the radio last year and Nick never connected the dots, never thought that it was Harry singing that bit of the song, who harmonised perfectly alongside Ed Sheeran's also very nice voice. 

It's quite simply mad.


	2. Chapter 2

While Harry Styles rises to stardom, one pretty starlett at the time and taking the indie world by storm, Nick leaves Tristan Park, can't bear the narrowed and pitying eyes of Harry's friends. He can't stand Caroline's comforting hand or Finchy's 'helpful' words; 'It wouldn't have worked out anyway. He was flighty and so young'. 

Aimee's boyfriend Ian works for Radio One and not long after leaving Tristan Park, Nick scores a job at one of the night time shows and though that means hearing Harry's tracks, it's also sort of the job he's always wanted. When he's not working there, he's got a job at one of those small a la carte restaurants he dreamed of working at when he first started out at as a waiter trainee, when DJing started to get too demanding and the lifestyle making him do all sorts of things his body hated him for. Sure the hours were shit as well at Tristan Park, but the people there held him up much better than the DJ gig had done. 

But he's not really happy.

'You might remember Harry Styles fom Ed Sheeran's track Little Things,' Aimee reads from Sugarscape. 'The curly-haired lad has toured with Sheeran since he was sixteen and enjoys the friendship of many high-profile celebs, including James Cordon, Kate Moss and enjoys respect from people like Elton John and his personal hero Chris Martin of Coldplay. Now, Simon Cowell's been charmed by his cheeky smile and Styles is no longer that fit lad from Sheeran's video, but on the mouth of every girl’s lips. Watch out Biebs, another lad's out to conquer your fanbase and doing it with a lot more charm.'

They're at lunch and Aimee's being really unhelpful. 

'I don't care,' Nick says and picks through his salad.

'Lies,' she says. 'People are saying he's going to get bigger and you're not the least bit pissed?' 

'I don't care,' he says again. 'He was just a spot of fun.'

'He was your best friend,' she tells him.

'Don't be ridiculous,' he says. 'You're my best friend.'

She rolls her eyes at him. 'Of course I am. He was a different kind of best friend - the kind that you sort of fall in love with.'

'Don't be stupid.' 

But she's not stupid and Nick still gets that clenching in his stomach every time he hears Harry's voice on the radio and there's a new picture of him in The Sun. And Harry's with girls again and that model Cara Something French. He hates it, but he can't get over it. There is not really anything to get over, but Nick just wishes that Harry had said something or had indicated that they were over. There had just been nothing at all and nothing since. 

'It's just that...' Nick offers slowly. 'Niall mentioned something on Facebook.'

'What? That Harry still sleeps on the lads' couches?' Aimee says. 

'Well yes. Why does he do it with them and not me?'

She doesn't answer, just takes his hand and she quickly turns the subject to something else. 

And then Nick's the host of the night time show, though he's only been at Radio 1 for a year and his career takes a sudden and very interesting turn towards something very different. Suddenly, he's required to go to events and he can afford a flat in Primrose Hill. Then his mother's calling, because he's in the newspaper and everything just goes from there. 

Somehow, Greg James has a video and Nick's in it. He laughs at lot and he makes new friends and they all seem to like him.   
The video premieres and it gets about a million views. Then Harry retweets the fifteen seconds that has got Nick almost exclusively and add: 'vote @grimmers for best new addition to @BBCR1 on sugarscape'. Then the video gets five other million viewers and Nick' ratings skyrockets for a month. 

'You've got a new fan, Grimmy,' Annie Mac says one night on live radio. 

'I've got a lot of new fans lately,' Nick says and he knows what's coming. 

'Well, this one really famous,' Annie says. 'It's that Harry Styles.' 

'Who'd have thought it? He's a great bloke that Harry Styles, thinking of us little people here at Radio 1.' 

'Well, I think it's lovely that someone like that listens. He's quite fit.'

'I don't need that lovely child, even if he is quite fit,' Nick says and maybe he shouldn't have said that on live radio. 'Why are you so fit, Harry Styles?'

Then that trends on Twitter and it's on the front page of the Daily Mail. He would never have thought that the lad from Cheshire, the one who was Louis' mate and who needed a spot of cash, would have turned into someone who trended on Twitter. Nick doesn't know the Harry Styles that Ed Sheeran describes, the one that he met at a gig in Manchester when Harry was fifteen and who he's been writing songs with ever since. Nick doesn't know the Harry Styles who has apparently been dating Taylor Swift recently. He does recognize the Harry who doesn't like being alone, who surrounds himself with friends of all ages and genders. But Harry is surrounded by security now and he's forgotten all about Nick. 

It's been a year and a half since the fateful day at Tristan Park and Nick Grimshaw lives a radically different life than before Harry Styles. But he hasn’t forgotten and it has made him a better person. Harry’s outlook on life is something that Nick has taken to heart and he starts living to the fullest. 

Then Ian announces with a bit of a frown that Nick’s been offered an interview job at a charity event that’s got really big names with Annie Mac and Nick happily agrees, knowing this is a step forward for his career. He gets four all-access tickets and gives one to Finchy, Aimee and Caroline and knows they’ll love it. He certainly won’t mind being around them and offering them these small favors after having left them a waiter short.

He really should have known that Aimee has had a hand in it, that Ian had gotten him the gig because Harry needs to be interviewed. It’s making him awkward and he’s never awkward. He always knows what he wants and he always knows how to get it. He hasn’t got the slightest clue how to do this interview with Harry.

Then he’s there in all his glory, popstar look and bright smiling face. 

‘Nick!’ he exclaims and Nick settles in Harry’s arms like he’s always belonged. Harry doesn’t smell different. He’s stronger and older, nearly twenty-one, and he is more fit than the pap shots makes him out to be. Even better yet, he’s real. 

‘You all right, then?’ Nick asks when Harry let’s go. 

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ Harry says with a bright smile. ‘I’ve been like really busy.’

‘Good, that’s good,’ Nick stammers. Harry’s still got his hand on Nick’s shoulder and Nick can feel the electric current running between them. 

Louis and Taylor bloody Swift appears in the doorway. Sometimes Nick forgets that Louis is Harry’s best friend, that Louis’ stuck by Harry through a lot of stuff, through the three year age difference, the tabloids and the relentless attention by the media. Seeing Swiftie’s a bit of a surprise, since Nick’s always sort of thought of her as some sort of fairytale princess. He knew theoretically that Harry and Taylor’s been dating, but seeing it is an entirely different animal. He remembers the toe-curling jealousy when Harry used to leave parties with Caroline and when they’d look frazzled and unkempt from a round in the toilets. It comes back again, that feeling of dread and of not being able to do a bloody thing about it. 

‘Hiya,’ Nick gets out. 

‘Grimmy,’ Louis says without a hint of pleasantry. He’s no longer contractually obliged to listen to Nick, so Nick’s not really surprised that Louis sort of hates him. 

‘Let’s get the interview going, shall we?’ LMC says and off they go. 

With Louis and Swiftie hidden well behind the cameras, Nick and Annie ask their questions. Harry is slow-spoken, but always the picture of politeness. There’s always a thoughtful response even though it can take a while to get there. 

‘So, what do you like about a…’ Nick hesitates and remembers a night in McDonalds. It’s about attraction and chemistry. ‘Sorry, let me rephrase that. What do you think is most important about liking a person?’ 

Harry smiles and Nick can tell he’s relieved. It’s not the same standard question and while Nick knows Harry usually keeps his answers gender neutral, this is more forward.

‘It’s about fancying someone because there’s chemistry, not because someone’s fit or wears the right clothes. People indulge me a lot and I don’t always treat them right because of it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate or like them. I like someone who makes me want to do better,’ Harry replies and Nick feels flushed and somehow a bit satisfied. 

‘Well, thank you for your time today,’ Annie says. 

‘Yeah, it’s all right,’ Harry says and the camera cuts. 

‘That was good, thank you,’ Annie says. ‘The girls are going to love it.’ 

She stalks off to the tech people and Nick’s left sort of alone with the boy who has featured quite heavily in his dreams since that time Louis first brought him around at Tristan Park. 

‘It’s nice seeing you again,’ Harry says softly. 

‘Yeah,’ Nick says. ‘Yeah, it’s nice.’ 

Maybe it sounds bitter to his own ears, but by the pinched look Harry gets it certainly sounds bitter to Harry’s. 

‘You should come on my show, since it’s nice and all,’ Nick continues on and he’s angry now, faking it with a wide fake smile towards Annie, but he knows Harry can see through it. ‘Thanks for the interview. People will think we’re proper mates and all with how you retweeted me and all. We know better though, right Harry Styles? God, you must have laughed at us.’ 

‘No, no, I’d never…’ Harry starts. ‘Look, come to my show and we’ll talk after.’

‘Don’t bother,’ Nick says airily and walks away, towards Annie and safer topics. He notices when Taylor slips her hand into Harry’s, notices the frown on her face. He notices Harry’s silence and he notices Louis’ pinched expression. They’re out of the door quickly enough, off to do more press and Nick feels the relief flood through his belly. 

The so-called Haylor romance is currently ruling alongside the infamous former supercouple Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson’s wagon of public, thus making it impossible for them to leave backstage without copious amounts of security. Therefore making private conversations a tricky thing and Nick must be grateful that he’s the person who caught them and not some snooping journalist who doesn’t have feelings involved. 

‘How many people was there, Harry?’ Taylor says and she sounds right pissed. ‘You don’t think Ed told me that you barely spent any time with him back then, that you were off somewhere for nights at a time.’ 

‘We’ve only just gone really serious,’ Harry defends. 

‘We were serious two years ago, but you still went to London to play pretend waiter,’ she hisses. 

‘You were in a different country and I never said we were exclusive back then,’ Harry says. 

‘No, that’d be too much for poor Harry Styles, always needing everyone’s attention. Do you ever sleep alone? Where do you go when you’re not with me? I can’t stand guessing all the time!’ 

Taylor barges out of the dressing room marked ‘Harry Styles’, but Harry’s right behind her. Nick sort of hides behind a fern. 

‘I’m with you now - completely!’ he says and she sort of hesitates. ‘I wasn’t before, but I am now. Who cares about two years ago?’ 

‘If this Grimshaw says anything on the radio…’ Taylor says. 

‘He won’t,’ Harry replies. ‘He’s good people.’ 

They don’t notice him.


	3. Chapter 3

RJ’s well fit and it seems he’s only got eyes for Nick. He’s working out of London for a couple of months and he needed a place to stay. Together, they work their way up the social latter to a way of life that Nick could only dream of back in Oldham, sitting in front of the mirror with his sister’s long forgotten hair brush. They both work hard, oftentimes having hangovers more than not, but with the amount of gigs suddenly piling up in his social calendar, Nick knows what they are doing is working. 

It doesn’t hurt that he has a young and fit bloke in his bed. RJ even makes brekkie sometimes, even though it’s not quite the full English. He gets points for trying anyway, since Nick can’t be bothered. 

It really is inevitable that they would run into Harry. It’s a GQ dinner, which there are loads of and though Nick doesn’t always approve of their writing, oftentimes intrusive and demeaning towards women, he respects the way they provide a platform for networking. 

Nick walks the red carpet with RJ, Alexa Chung and Pixie Geldof, the two girls sandwiched between them in their expensive designer dresses, when the deafening noise of shouting paps suddenly overcame the otherwise rather calm and collected affair. 

A familiar set of curls appears among the people milling about, smartly dressed in something very expensive. As always Harry Styles shines like a beacon and a circle is quickly created around him. He smiles brightly, all teeth and green eyes. Nick, of course, tactfully avoids him, passing behind some tall footballer at one point. He even leaves a half-finished drink in his haste to remain unseen. And yes, he is fully aware of the eyes Pixie’s sending him. 

He leaves RJ with Cara Delevingne and ducks into the toilet, shoulders pinched and a headache building slowly behind his eyes. He doesn’t fancy having the need to apologize to Harry for the way he had snapped at him at the charity event. Because he knows he will. Harry will look at him with those eyes, head ducked, horribly slouched posture, making him look like a puppy, and Nick’ll be helpless. He rests his hands on the marble sink and gives himself a pinched expression, expressing precisely what’s inside him in that moment. 

He closes his eyes for literally seconds when he feels someone brush up against his shoulders. 

‘You forgot your drink at the bar,’ Harry says, voice lower than what Nick remembers. ‘It’s a bit irresponsible, innit?’ 

‘Thanks,’ Nick says awkwardly and accepts the drink. ‘I wasn’t going to drink it anyway.’

‘Oh,’ Harry huffs out slowly. ‘Well, do you want another one? I could get it.’

‘No, it’s…’

‘Or like not tonight, but like tomorrow or something,’ Harry says.

Nick honestly doesn’t know what to say and Harry coughs nervously. 

‘I’ve got work,’ Nick finally gets out.

‘Yeah, of course, because tomorrow’s Monday and that’s when you have shows. I listen to your programs like most nights, you know. They’re good,’ Harry says and Nick recognizes his longer than normal speech for nervousness. 

‘There’s a Maccie’s around the corner. We could go there,’ Nick offers. 

Harry brightens. ‘Yeah, good, that’ll be good.’ 

Nick says his rounds of goodbyes and kisses the right amounts of cheeks, before heading out slightly behind Harry. It’s only when the astounding amount of flashes goes off in his face that he thinks he should probably have thought it through. Harry Styles has been the hottest new thing coming out of Britain since Adele and he’s male, which means there a twice the level of attention than with ‘regular’ artists. It doesn’t hurt that most of his fanbase wants to date him and the other part wants to be him. His every move is calculatingly followed on twitter and his name trends weekly. Nick should have remembered that Harry is no longer the lad from Cheshire who slept in his bed two years ago. The Harry he follows into the maelstrom of paps is Harry Styles, the bloke who’s dating a pop princess, regularly seen with footballers and garners enough respect everywhere that it’s got well-known comedians such as Keith Lemon and Jack Whitehall making almost daily jokes. This is Simon Cowell’s brightest find, most shining star and the person who finally cemented Simon’s dominance in talent spotting in Britain. 

But most of all, Harry is the boy who broke Nick’s heart. 

Harry guides them to a cabbie and Nick’s too busy being blinded to wonder why until they’re inside and Harry’s telling the cabbie to drive around in circles until the paps have stopped followed them. When they eventually make it to McDonald’s around the corner from the GQ dinner, it’s been half an hour and Nick’s not said a thing. Harry hasn’t seemed to mind, messing about on his phone, giving Nick plenty of opportunities to stare openly at the now twenty-one year-old young man, marking the subtly differences, relearning shapes and the way his hair’s gone further up than in the side-swept quiff of the Tristan Park days. 

They can’t sit by the window, so Nick walks to a table partially hidden from the world outside. He knows Harry has something to say, knows that there is more to Harry’s stumbling speech in the toilets. It feels like a lifetime ago that they sat in a very different McDonalds, having a very different conversation.

‘So, like…’ Nick says and Harry seems to snap out of some haze and blushes. ‘I feel like we should have a conversation.’ It’s all very grown-up and responsible, but Nick needs it. He can feel it deep down, knows that he’s been waiting for some sort of explanation. 

‘We met at this camp thing, the lads and I,’ Harry says slowly. ‘Louis was like twelve and I was that little kid who couldn’t play football. It was like singing camp.’ 

‘Louis can sing?’ Nick asks surprised. He knows Liam can and he’s definitely heard Zayn as well. 

‘Yes,’ Harry replies simply. ‘He’s a great singer. Since camp we haven’t really done anything without each other. I can’t even  
count how many times they’ve stayed at my stepdad’s house during summers. They’re my best mates, you know. And then, there was Ed and that was really complicated and Louis and Zayn moved to London without the rest of us. America was great, but a bit complicated and Taylor was… is a bit complicated. And I don’t really live anywhere and that’s also a bit complicated and my house is haunted.’

‘Do you always speak in riddles?’ Nick says sharply.

‘Not intentionally,’ Harry replies and coughs, sorting out the slight squeak in his voice. ‘Point is that it’s all a bit complicated.’ 

‘I actually did catch that bit.’ 

‘Right,’ Harry says and chews a bit on the straw of his cola. ‘I think for me, getting a job was my mom’s way of giving me a sense of normality because my life’s been quite crazy since I was fifteen. And I loved hanging around with the lads and going home to Holmes Chapel to see Mum and Gemma. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet the real me.’ 

Nick stares at Harry for a moment. ‘Where you with Taylor while you were with me?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Harry replies honestly. ‘But it wasn’t like it is now. We were just Ed’s friends who got on, you know. It didn’t matter that she was a singer and she has Grammys. We were just friends jamming on her trampoline.’

‘Didn’t you think it was a bit unfair to everyone - to Caroline, to me and to Taylor?’ Nick asks. 

‘It didn’t feel like a problem, but I’ve grown up a bit since then,’ Harry says. ‘I should have been more honest, but I think you should have been more honest with yourself as well.’

‘We’re not talking about me!’ 

‘You were so miserable and not because you didn’t like the job at Tristan Park, but because you were holding yourself back,’ Harry says and touches Nick’s knee under the plastic tabletop. ‘You’re so much happier now.’  
Nick moves his leg uncomfortably and runs his hand through his hair. It doesn’t matter that Harry’s got a fair point. 

‘Can we be mates again?’ 

\--

RJ’s mad when Nick arrives back at his place in the early hours of the morning, stinking of booze and smoke. His clothes are rumpled and he’s not sure he’s speaking in complete sentences. He crashes on the sofa and doesn’t wake until three in the afternoon when his bladder’s about to burst. He’s got to be at BBC in two hours time. There’s a curry on the counter, courtesy of RJ, and even though it’s probably been there since RJ left it much earlier in the day, it’s the greatest thing Nick’s ever eaten. 

It’s not until he’s on the way into the shower, clothes off, that he realizes something is written on his chest in black bold letters. ‘I don’t get it,’ he mutters to himself and finds his glasses from where he left them last night before the GQ dinner. 

Give us a call – love harry.

The short message is followed by a badly drawn penis with a smiling face and fangs and a set of numbers upside-down. Nick spends a fairly embarrassing amount of time trying to decipher the numbers, before snapping a picture of his massacred chest. He sends it to the number displayed on his chest with a ‘thanx’ and a prawn emoji. He then finally gets around to the shower, standing there a good ten minutes longer than his paycheck probably should allow. When he gets out there’s a reply, containing two bee emojis and an ‘x’. 

When he finally arrives at the BBC and rejoins the world of the living, he finally notices that his mentions on twitter has gone up exponentially since the day before and both his twitter and instagram have significantly more followers and traffic than ever before, not even counting that time he interviewed Harry with Annie Mac at the charity event. Ian meets him at the door with a copy of the Daily Mail and yeah okay, he does look awfully chummy with Harry on the front cover. 

‘We’re just friends,’ Nick says in defense, which honestly has been agreement between him and Harry during the night, upheld the whole night through.

Ian shrugs. ‘Maybe, but you weren’t always. My advice is that you get some of those pictures you posted of Harry on instagram two years ago down.’

‘Yeah, great thanks,’ Nick sighs and trudges on with his day. When he has the time, he tries to communicate something reassuring RJ’s way, but he doesn’t know if he’s successful before coming home after his show to find RJ asleep in his bed. Nick’s producers have had a nightmare during the live show and he sends them a grateful text before falling asleep with his face tucked into RJ’s neck. 

‘You’re still coming to Ibiza, right?’ Nick asks him the next day.

RJ’s a much better person than Nick can ever be. ‘Yeah, but can you like just tell me if you’re not coming back for the night? Just for future reference. The only reason I knew not to worry was because of social media.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ Nick offers and gives him what he hopes are a very charming smile. 

‘But you just have to tell me one very important thing,’ RJ says with a mischievous smile. 

‘I’ll tell you anything you like,’ Nick says, leaning into RJ’s space. 

‘Was his hair taller than yours?’ 

‘Not a chance,’ Nick says and stumbles them both onto the sofa. 

Now that the talk with Harry is well out of the way, Nick doesn’t really expect to hear a lot more from the lad, considering that the very same Sunday night they’d gone out, Nick’s taxi had dropped Harry off at Heathrow. Harry is busy being a popstar with all that it entails. Between their tenth drink, Harry had explained he needs to finish about fifteen more concert dates that year, before embarking on a world tour next year. 

So it does sort of surprise him when Harry turns up at the radio a little after midnight on Thursday and annoys the shit out of everyone all the while charming equally as much. 

’Do you want to go on?’ Nick asks him after an hour of Harry being an absolute menace while Nick talks through links, shifting microphones, throwing bios and on one occasion a paper airplane that hits Nick in the eye and the stupid eye has since then been running annoyingly.

‘Sure,’ Harry replies with a shrug and Nick’s producer looks like she’s going to cry. 

Harry’s on for an hour, shooting nonsense and it’s been a long time since Nick’s had such a good laugh. It’s one of his most popular shows to date, catching an American audience he doesn’t know he has. Bootlegs get tweeted and #harryongrimmy trends worldwide. 

Nick likes attention and while he knows objectively hanging around Harry Styles does wonders for press, he, like many around celebrities, feels the keen hatred which gets sent their way. Harry’s has had gay rumors hanging over his head ever since a group of fans started to find it odd that Louis always hangs around in the background of Harry. Then speculation began that Harry’s relationship with Taylor Swift is a media stunt created by his management, even though it’s fairly common knowledge they met long before the success of Little Things, Ed and Harry’s first major commercial success song some three and half years earlier. None of it has a grain of truth to it, except for the two fractions coming out of the whole ‘Gryles/Stymshaw’ bromance debacle. One side is firmly sure that Nick is an attention-seeking whore out to ruin Larry Stylinson, while the other is in the firm belief that Harry and Nick are in love, which is a bit closer to the truth. 

He gets a couple of concerned texts from Aimee and Caroline sends him a couple of text with only exclamation marks. Finchy even sends him an invitation to get ‘laddy’ drinks. 

After the radio show ends, Harry drives them back to Nick then repeats something about his house being haunted. It’s halv four am and RJ’s been to some sort of night shoot, so he’s around when a giggling Harry stumbles in behind Nick.

‘Hi,’ Harry says charmingly. ‘I’m just going to crash on the sofa.’ 

‘This is RJ King,’ Nick introduces. 

‘I’m Harry,’ a real life popstar says to Nick’s for the moment live-in shag/date-thingy. ‘You’re really fit.’

RJ blinks sleepily, wearing his Calvin Klein’s only. ‘I think I’m going to go to sleep,’ he says.

‘I’ll just be a mo,’ Nick shouts after him. 

‘He’s really fit,’ Harry mutters behind the shirt he’s discarding. ‘And a bit young isn’t he?’

Nick quirks his eyebrow at him. 

‘All right, fair point,’ Harry says cheekily. 

‘We can’t all be dating older women,’ Nick says, referring to the constant rumors around Harry. He promptly gets an expensive pair of trousers thrown in his face.

‘Night, Grimmy,’ Harry grumbles into one of Nick’s floral pillows, already half asleep, wearing only his pants and with his feet sticking over the end of the sofa. Nick smiles at him fondly when he can’t see, already snoring softly, and returns into place beside RJ. 

Harry and RJ are doing yoga when Nick gets up the next morning and something is sizzling in the kitchen. He looks puzzled at them for a second before making himself a nice espresso out of his expensive coffee machine. The table’s been set and the doors to the garden have been opened, letting in the summer air, even though it’s quite cloudy. 

‘Are we expecting someone?’ he asks just as someone tumbles through his front door, shouting that he’s got the bacon.  
Niall Horan hasn’t much changed from the bright cook at Tristan Park, other than a finished traineeship and jetsetting around the world with Harry bloody Styles. Undisputedly the most happy and carefree person Nick’s ever known, Niall had always been one of the more agreeable people at his old workplace. 

‘Hullo, Grimmy,’ Niall says, pausing to give Nick a big-toothed smile and returns to his sizzling pans. 

‘Just Finchy, Cazza, Aimee and Ian,’ Harry says. ‘I haven’t seen any of them in ages and Niall’s playing hooky.’

‘Hate ridin’ solo,’ Niall shouts over his pans. 

‘Sounds good,’ Nick says, wondering if he should Hoover about the living room. The bathroom definitely needs a bit of a clean. Instead, he joins Harry and RJ’s yoga session.

When the guests have been greeted and everyone’s oh’ed and aw’ed over Niall’s fantastic brunch (Nick hates that word with a passion. It is early lunch or nothing.), Nick finds himself surprised how easy everything is. He misses the day-to-day friendship with his old colleagues and hears all about Finchy’s brand new baby plans, Caroline’s footballer and the latest new trick Thursten’s pulled. RJ’s been completely taken by Niall’s bright presence and Harry soaks up everyone’s attention like always. 

Harry sits on Nick’s right side and Nick’s the first to see the ruffled and satisfied look of Swiftie’s call picture. Harry pointedly ignores the first call, pressing ignore by the second ring and continuing his conversation with Aimee. By the second call, Harry sighs and makes his excuses. 

‘Did you see who it was?’ Niall asks. 

‘The missus,’ Nick replies and Niall gets up and follows Harry out into the garden. 

‘I don’t get it?’ Finchy says confused. 

Nick shrugs and makes a toast. Harry and Niall don’t come back for another fifteen minutes and by then their food’s gone cold. Harry seems to be fighting something while Niall’s gone back to his standard look of passive friendliness. 

‘God, are you alright?’ Caroline asks. 

‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ Harry says and sits down beside Nick. ‘Taylor’s just being weird cos I slept with her drummer and yeah, I like shouldn’t have done that, but she’s not my girlfriend right now.’

‘Wait, you’re single?’ Ian asks and Nick can why a producer would find this piece of information gold. Nick finds it gold and he’s just a radio host. 

‘It’s weird like,’ Harry says slowly. ‘I love her and we’ve nearly bought a house together and all, but we drive each other mad. It’s a bit complicated, is all. ’

Nick flashes back to that time he had seen Harry with Taylor and how they had both been at each other’s throats. But from the sounds of it, Harry isn’t done with her and it seems she’s returning the exact same sentiment if she just spent fifteen minutes shouting at him out of jealousy. 

‘How’s it complicated, love?’ Caroline asks softly. 

‘The kind of complicated where I hide out at a hotel for six months,’ Harry says and toasts to everyone who’s ever been broken-up with. Nick dutifully toasts alongside him and takes RJ’s hand. 

Later on, Niall conjures out a guitar and harmonizes perfectly while Harry sings slowly and soulfully. 

 

You and I  
We don't wanna be like them  
We can make it till the end  
Nothing can come between  
You and I  
Not even the Gods above can  
Separate the two of us

 

Nick’s never heard it before, so it must be new. Harry’s voice soars and while Nick’s heard plenty of his stuff on the radio, even played a couple of them between the music usually played in his slot, he’s never quite been as taken with it as that exact moment. Like with everything else he does, Harry Styles exudes confidence and magnetism. Everything else fades away. Nick wonders if he’s singing for Taylor or if it’s just the way he performs. It’s got to be a mix between the two. 

When people eventually leave, it’s with a good feeling that he sends Harry out the door with a promise to call. Harry leaves with Caroline and it doesn’t burn the way it used to. Harry has mended his bridges with Nick, he probably have a couple to mend with her. She adores him and has always done so, but not quite in the way Nick does and that’s why she backed off when Harry eventually took up with Nick instead. In many ways, she’s probably more of a good influence, which Harry needs. She can be so calming. Nick knows this because they’ve both been dead tired on their feet from working sixteen hour days for the entire Christmas rush. 

He cleans his house with RJ in comfortable silence, before he has to do his show. RJ comes with him to the radio and sits in silence with his phone lit up on the background. Nick’s awfully fond of him and he wishes he could like him better. Maybe he can with enough time and for the first time; it doesn’t leave him dreading the future as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lyrics from You and I, but you already knew that
> 
>  
> 
> currently campaigning for 'take back the gryles tag' both on ao3 and tumblr. you should do the same
> 
> \- reinacadeea (onereinacadeea)


	4. Chapter 4

Where you at? Harry texts and when the second text filters through, it’s with an emoji of the London Eye and a question mark. 

I’m in Manchester for the day and then I’m officially holidaying, Nick replies and stares at the sick Hugo Boss’ blazer some more. It’s horribly expensive, but he’s got a thing soon and he needs new clothes. He’s always in constant need of clothes now he’s in higher demand and in the bloody tabloids. They’ll get you if you wear the same thing more than once. 

I’m too. You want to meet up?

Sure. Meet up for lunch? Nick types. 

Gregorian’s twenty min, Harry texts back and that’s that. 

It’s a Greek place well-known for its fine cuisine. Costs a fortune, but he can sort off afford it. If anything they need to go there for the privacy it offers its famous customers. Nick’s still a Z-lister of sorts, but Harry’s definitely not. 

They chat about the weather and whether Harry’s going to the EMA’s this year where Nick’s got a bit of a hosting gig he’s dead proud of with Alexa Chung. Then they talk about Beyonce’s new smash-hit album and how Harry’s been writing tracks with Ed again. They’re probably going to go on a quick American tour right after Christmas, sometime before Harry’s got a thing with Comic Relief. 

‘So, I’ve got a plane to catch in about two hours,’ Harry says out of nowhere after about two hours of just sitting at the restaurant, getting first dessert and then lattes and then maybe a beer or two. 

‘Where are you going, popstar?’ Nick teases. ‘Are you of jetsetting to Japan or the Antarctic?’ 

‘I don’t think anyone jetsets to the Antarctic, Grim,’ Harry jokes. ‘But I’ve got a festival in Denmark. Do you want to come?’ 

‘I can’t just do that,’ Nick says. 

‘Of course you can. I do it all the time,’ Harry says with a slightly silly over-exaggerated wink. 

‘Isn’t Louis going? He doesn’t like me,’ Nick says even though he’s already decided. 

Harry pouts. ‘The lads have got a thing. They can’t go this time.’ 

‘Poor you,’ Nick says but he goes anyway. 

Roskilde is mad. He’s never been to one of their festivals before and he instantly likes it. He gets instant cred because apparently being a DJ for the BBC is a big deal and he gets to do the thing he loves most. He networks his way through the music industry and makes a couple of friends. Oh Land’s manager graciously accepts his invite to come on his show and he absolutely overwhelms a rapper singing exclusively in Danish with his praise. Harry befriends another singer named Mads Langer whose show they watch from backstage. The live show is pretty good, but the songs are a bit the same. 

Nick also officially meets Harry’s entourage. He meets Caroline the stylist, Harry’s band, his PA Richard (who looks a bit hazy - read stressed - around the edges) and the tour manager Paul Higgins who is basically Harry’s third father. Then there’s Cal and a couple of burly security guards who has got their work cut for them when Harry decides to make an impromptu visit to some of the stands outside the VIP area. And then there is Lou the hairdresser, her adorable daughter Lux and her husband Tom. Lou seems to have adopted Harry as a younger brother and is dead critical of Nick at first and he quickly decides to go on his best charm offensive. At one point, the entirety of Harry’s entourage is encouraged to play hide and seek with Lux and with the way they just go with it, Lux is apparently around enough for her to know all their names and hide behind Paul when a pap gets a bit too close. 

Harry plays on the big Orange Stage, the trademark of the festival, on the last slot of Saturday. People have been gathering since morning, mainly girls with resigned boyfriends. But everyone seems to be in good humor when Nick sneaks out with Lou for an afternoon cocktail and maybe a party or two along the way. Lou even styles his quiff into the best one so far and quickly enough he’s posting on instagram about ‘loving @louteasdale the best’. 

When they return to the backstage area, Harry’s doing soundcheck with the band and Nick sits down to watch. Harry does his work like he does everything else, with a deep dedication and thoughtfulness. But he’s also Harry so it’s also done with a cheeky smile and laughs on nobody’s expense. He looks like the star he is, bouncing around on stage, even though it’s not the actual show. The actual show is an explosion of noise, screaming and above it all Harry’s voice as he leads the crowd through ‘Midnight Memories’, ‘Through the Dark’, ‘I Would’ and his recent mega-hit ‘Happily’. Everyone loves that one and Nick’s not ashamed to admit that he sings the loudest. Towards the end of the show, Harry’s crew plays pranks on him; stalking through the stage dressed as Tigger, attacking him through the encore of ‘Save You Tonight’ and Nick joins in on a frankly ridiculous water fight that has the crowd screaming delightedly. 

During ‘Little Things’ Harry gives thanks to the people around him and that’s when Nick knows the media are going to start speculating back on the Isles. 

‘Right, so like anyone who has ever been to any of my shows, I’ve usually got some of my best friends with me,’ Harry says and Nick can hear several ‘Louis’ and ‘Niall’ being shouted towards the stage. ‘They couldn’t be here today, but instead I brought along my mate Nick who thinks Lac… no L.O.C. is sick. He spent last night gushing over him.’ Harry looks over and Nick rolls his eyes. The crowd loves it though. ‘He works for BBC Radio, right, like one of the biggest DJ’ing jobs in the country. We had a bit of a falling out, so I thought I’d bring him to the most fantastic festival in Northern Europe! That’s right, give a big hand for Nicholas Grimshaw – the bloke who made sure I got a recording contract!’ 

Nick doesn’t remember smiling that much in a long time. 

-

Harry’s got another festival in Belgium two days later that the lads join him for, so after having spent two nights partying through Copenhagen, Nick flies back to Manchester with a massive hangover and the biggest crowd of paps waiting for him in his entire career. He’ll be forever grateful for airport security for that hell. He’s never been shouted at that much in his life. 

‘Did you and Harry Styles have a row over Louis Tomlinson?’

‘Why were you with Harry?’

‘When did you first meet Harry Styles?’

‘Does Harry Styles like your boyfriend?’ 

He’s on the front page of every major news outlet and his phone has been blowing up. He finally relents when he’s in the taxi towards Jenny’s house and reads one of the articles. 

 

*Harry Styles apologizing to DJ Grimmy for mysterious falling out?

This Saturday saw young Styles performing at festival Roskilde in Denmark to enthusiastic crowds, accompanied with hairstylist icon Lou Teasdale and Nick Grimshaw of Radio 1’s late night show. Grimmy was first spotted with Teasdale at an impromptu bathroom-themed party on the festival grounds, before taking part in the huge water fight that later broke out onstage. An insider tells HEAT that Grimmy and Harry seemed very familiar backstage and that they seemed like the best of friends. 

The Stymshaw bromance first saw the light of day when Mr. Styles boosted Grimmy’s ratings by retweeting Greg James’ Clique video. Later on it has given us late night radio gold when Grimmy invited Harry on. After Harry’s show on Saturday, the two partied two nights straight and with rumors that Haylor recently have called it quits, Grimmy has played wingman, having seen squeeze and model RJ King off to New York until they go to Ibiza. Whatever row has plagued the two, it certainly seems to have been put firmly behind them.*

 

‘For god’s sake,’ he mutters to himself and closes the window on his phone. 

‘Are you that Grimmy person?’ the cabbie asks after a while. 

Nick looks at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’ 

‘It’s just that you’re everywhere, you and that Harry Styles.’

‘God, are we really?’ Nick rubs his forehead and tries to figure out who to call. He’s got to get some sort of manager. 

‘Could I have an autograph for my daughter?’ the cabbie asks and Nick agrees with something resembling a pleasant smile. 

Jenny is as nice about it as he should have expected. She gives him his obligatory eye-roll and teases him mercifully for hanging around with a boy ten years his junior (‘it’s only nine years, Jen, only nine.’). She sits him down at the kitchen table, brings him a cuppa and tells him she’s been ordered to make him call Ian when Nick got in. 

‘He’s quite mad,’ she says, pats his shoulder and looks pointedly at his phone. 

He looks at the offending piece of aluminum for a second before calling Ian. That’s how he ends up live on Scott Mills’ show in the best radio hour beside the breakfast slot. 

‘And we’ve got a very special caller live, isn’t that right, Grimmy? How’re you? Are you a bit hungover?’ Scott teases. 

‘Hiya,’ Nick says brightly. 

‘You’re on everyone’s lips now and we must know; have you or have you not had a fight with Harry Styles?’ Scott asks. 

‘I have not been fighting with Harry Styles, no,’ Nick lies through his teeth. ‘But we have not been talking until very recently when he got in touch again.’

‘Are you saying you’ve known him for a while?’ Scott says surprised.

‘Yeah, I suppose. Before I worked for Radio 1, I worked for The Tristan Park Hotel with Harry’s mates. Louis and Zayn trained under me as waiters for three years,’ and that part Nick doesn’t lie about. ‘Good lads, they are.’ 

‘So you can confirm that you have not in fact been fighting with Harry?’ Scott says and that’s the whole reason Nick’s even on the radio to defend his renewed friendship with the hottest thing in Britain. 

‘Doesn’t look like it, does it?’ Nick says. ‘Harry left Tristan Park when Simon Cowell gave him a recording contract. He got really busy and I honestly don’t fault him for that. It is notoriously difficult to break the American market you know.’

‘So, I’ve heard,’ Scott says. ‘Well, thank you, Nick Grimshaw for that. I’ll be sure to ring The Sun.’

‘I’d appreciate it, mate,’ Nick says and then the link’s over. 

After supper, he’s got a text waiting for him from Belgium with a ‘sorry for the trouble, wish it wasn’t national news every time I move a muscle’. 

No trouble, Nick texts back. It doesn’t feel like such a hardship, not when he gets a text like that. He has always known that Harry is trouble, from the time he was just nineteen and everything Nick shouldn’t want. He’s done fancying Harry and he’s going to settle being his friend, because he was good at that once upon a time. He’s got RJ who is fantastic and he absolutely fancies the pants of Nick. He doesn’t feel like he’s settling with RJ, maybe it did before Harry came back, but now he’s just thankful for everything RJ does for him. 

Jenny settles down beside him on the sofa with his fifth cuppa that day. ‘Someone is going to find out, you know,’ she says silently. ‘Everyone usually does. You dig enough there’s evidence somewhere.’

‘But not know,’ Nick says and stares at Keith Lemon making a joke at his expense. 

‘Everyone knows you’re gay,’ Jenny says. ‘That doesn’t matter. But Harry’s dating Taylor Swift. It’s going to be a bloody scandal when it comes out.’

‘At least he was legal,’ Nick jokes. 

Jenny nods in agreement. ‘At least he was that.’

He stays with Jenny a day or two, before going off to Oldham to visit his parent. Pete’s a bloody legend and says that Henry Stars is on the front pages a lot with Nick. ‘Is he famous or sumthin?’ is his most memorable quote. His mother tuts at him and says that Harry’s hair is awfully famous and maybe Nick shouldn’t try to copy it so much. 

‘I’ve not,’ Nick says scandalized, but does his mother ever listen. ‘He got that off of me, he did.’

‘Sure, Nicholas,’ his mother says. ‘Set the table, dear.’

He finally reunites with RJ, Aimee, Pixie and all the other people going on the Ibiza trip at Heathrow, having only gone home briefly to change his clothes. Ibiza is all bright colors and party poppers going around. Maybe he should a bit too old for them, but he’s being responsible and anyway he’s got to keep up with RJ, not that he minds. 

Pixie, Peaches Geldof and Poppy Delavingne rents a house with enough room for the entire party and though they prefer to keep the partying outside the house, there is enough wine in the house to keep a small fleet inebriated. They are not being all that responsible, but you have to let go at least once a year. Pictures are posted on social media and Nick can see his mentions steadily rising. He’s had the conversation with Pixie, the one about him feeling like he sometimes uses their friends’ fame, and because she’s the one who’s grown up with a superstar father. 

‘People are fucks,’ Pixie remarks helpfully. ‘We’re your friends and only we truly have to know this.’ 

‘I know, but –‘

‘Look at this whole business with Harry Styles, right,’ she continues on, shifting her sunglasses on to look at him. ‘He’s the hottest thing around and you were mates once and he’s going to remember that. You’ve never once taken advantage of him, have ya?’

‘I suppose not,’ Nick mumbles and that’s the end of that conversation. 

He adores the sun and he adores watching RJ getting more tan as the days go on. It’s like he’s not got a red stage like every single British person does. Nick’s slightly jealous, but not really when RJ gets into bed with him every night and continues to do so even after several blokes eyes him every time they go out. So beside the sun, the RJ, the alcohol, him being surrounded by his best friends and having rekindled something resembling a friendship with Harry, Nick Grimshaw feels all sorts of good. 

Somehow, in between Pixie and Poppy, they find the most exclusive party in Ibiza, having an invite only guest list and being attended almost exclusively by socialites and their friends. You’ve got to be something to go and you can’t go in jeans from Top Shop. It’s held in a castle of sort, illuminated by soft lights and Moroccan-style architecture that’s got Henry starry-eyed with inspiration. Its host is a lady around forty by the name of Ganbridge. She’s elegant and stylish; everything Nick imagines a real lady to be like. There are waiters in black and white walking among the guest, silent and ever-failingly polite. Nick would have loved a job like this back when he waited fulltime, but instead he’s a guest enjoying their handiwork. 

It’s not until he’s being served by Zayn Malik that he knows something is amiss. 

Nick and Aimee both exclaim his name at the same time and he gives them a sort of half smile. 

‘Sick job you’ve got there, Malik,’ Nick says, grinning. 

‘Yeah, it’s sick,’ Zayn drawls in his familiar Bradford accent. ‘Tommo’s over there.’ He points to the other end of dining hall. 

‘Let me guess,’ Aimee says. ‘Niall is in the kitchen then and Liam’s making sure the lights are all right?’ 

‘Got it in one,’ Zayn says. ‘We’ve got to like pay for plane tickets somehow. One Direction Catering at your service.’ 

Turns out, Nick learns later that very same night, the lads have a little company that exclusively deals in high-end parties with hosts that pay what needs to be paid. All of this is only possible because Harry’s name is attached to the project and he plays the largest part in which parties they cater. Nick is actually proud of the work done that night, knows that he has played some part in training a Louis who is hardworking and sharp and a Zayn whose mind works in mysterious but mind-blowing ways. 

‘Where’s Harry?’ Nick asks Liam when he sneaks through the waiter’s entrance once Louis’ scoff is well occupied somewhere else. There is about eight waiters milling about, all dressed smartly and with the ‘1D’ logo attached to the pocket of the black blazer. 

‘Can’t tell you that, mate,’ Liam responds with an apology written in his shrug. ‘Sorry.’ 

‘I’m not some random fan, Liam Payne,’ Nick says annoyed. ‘I’ve known you for years.’ 

‘You know what Louis is like,’ Liam says and with another shrug, he goes back to fiddling with something mechanical. 

Nick sighs. ‘Well, tell him I said hi, me.’ 

‘No probs, mate,’ Liam says pleasantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> absolutely love Louis, so if he comes across badly, it's only to make a point later on


	5. Chapter 5

With the end of summer, comes the long-awaited X-Factor. Nick guiltily watches it like everyone else. RJ has gone back to America and he can feel the loneliness setting in. Gillian comes around to stay for a bit, knows he’s crap at being by himself, but she’s got to return to her life at some point. So he sits watching X-Factor by himself two Fridays in a row, needing to be up early for the weekend breakfast show slot he’s secured himself recently. It’s a bit shit.

He eats Weetabix because he can’t be bothered ordering something and he’s got nothing else in. He’s even pretty sure the milk’s a bit sour. He’s got his socked feet on the coffee table, a pair of Adidas trousers and a ratty t-shirt that has definitely seen better days. To top it all off, he’s wearing his semi-dirty glasses and his otherwise proud hair keeps falling into his eyes. He honestly doesn’t look the best, but then again he’s not got anyone to impress. At least he’s got Dermot to entertain him and his Weetabix. He really could do with a dog or something anything to keep this complete boredom to settle just a bit. 

When X-Factor is over, revealing a couple of ‘sensational’ finds, he can still feel the restlessness resettle and go to the forefront of his mind. 

‘Bugger it,’ he says and gets up. There has got to be something interesting happening on a Friday night, even if he has to drag one of his poor friends along. He’s hangovered his way through a show before, he can do it again. He takes a quick-ish shower, blow-dries his hair into something resembling a quiff and throws on something hipster, which mostly consists of tight jeans, booths and a short-sleeved t-shirt that is made to look washed and hangs loosely around his shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his looks, he takes his wallet and briskly walks towards the Underground. The trip to Tristan Park is difficult, especially from Primrose Hill, but he bought in Primrose Hill because of its location near the BBC, not because of his old job. He feels like going up there tonight, knows something will be going on - there always is on a Friday. 

Caroline is serving someone when he goes into the restaurant and a nervous-looking trainee is standing behind the bar observing her every move with a bit of a flush in his cheeks. 

‘She’s quite the hot pretzel, huh?’ Nick says to the trainee who startles and whips around to face him. ‘Are you new?’ 

‘Uhh,’ the trainee stammers. 

‘Of course you are,’ Nick says. ‘Finchy’s been stressed lately and that always mean new trainees. Congratulations, mate, work hard and someday you won’t be useless.’ 

The trainee looks at him with a frown. ‘Uh thanks, I guess.’ 

‘Give us a rum and cola, ta,’ Nick says and sits down on the barstool nearby.   
The trainee serves him with an air of confusion and then wanders off into the kitchens, probably to give him a right bollocking for being mouthy. 

When Caroline comes over, she gives him the biggest hug and kisses his cheeks. ‘Hi, Grimmy,’ she says. ‘Are you all right?’ 

‘Yeah, everything’s fine. How are you?’ 

‘Splendid,’ she says. ‘I’m off in an hour if you want to get drinks with the rest of us.’ 

‘Oh you know me so well, Flacky,’ he says. 

She winks at him and goes on with her thing. A regular waiter works about forty hours a week and that’s not counting the extra overtime they clock through sheer demand. Because of the financial crisis the hotel management tries to set up as much work as possible, knowing they need it for that rainy day, but that also means that waiters often go down with stress or similar stress-related symptoms. Nick’s been close a couple of times, yet has always managed to crowd himself back up. Caroline, he knows, hasn’t been as lucky, having recently returned from a month of sick leave. There are hours of down time where menial tasks needs to be done (primarily by the trainees) and situations where they don’t sit down for hours on end. Nick remembers all of this, knows how hard it can be, and that’s probably why he keeps such a hectic lifestyle now – DJ’ing might be mentally exhausting, but working in a hotel is much worse. And to add on top of that depressing pile, waiters are usually treated like shit and oftentimes expected to smile their way through it.   
It’s a lifestyle choice and he loves every single person he has worked with. Most often they are the people throwing you your birthday party or the people you vent to. In some ways they are family. 

Caroline comes back around when he’s finished his drink, watching the telly behind the bar dazedly. 

‘Aren’t you here to see Harry?’ she asks with a frown and he gives her a confused stare. ‘Wait, isn’t that why you are here?’ 

‘Harry’s here?’ he says high-pitched. ‘I didn’t even know he was in London.’

‘Him and Taylor Swift come here for privacy a lot,’ Caroline explains with a shrug and sits down another, and stronger, rum and cola down in front of him. 

‘Well, I wasn’t here for Harry,’ Nick says, but now that he knows Harry is nearby he can feel the itch under his skin, the slight thrum of excitement. His heartbeat picks up and he fiddles with his phone. 

‘You are now,’ Caroline comments with a smirk. 

He rolls his eyes at her. 

‘They’re in Carnicky if you want to say hi. He won’t mind.’ 

Nick stumbles up, grabs his phone and drink, and assuredly (at least in his mind) walks towards the closed-off area called Carnicky that can open up into a much larger space when need be. 

Finchy’s fixing something beside the entrance and gives Nick a hug and nods his head inside. ‘They just stopped shouting,’ he says quietly. ‘I never knew Harry Styles knows that many swear words.’

‘Yeah, he’ll surprise you like that,’ Nick says softly and gives Finchy another one-armed hug. 

The scene that greets him is not exactly what he expected. Taylor and Harry are sitting sullenly beside each other; arms crossed and faces set in a scowl, while Niall and what looks suspiciously like Ed Sheeran are on what seems like their sixth pint of the night, giggling silently. There are four or five other people there as well, but Nick doesn’t recognize them. Two of them are suspiciously bulky, so they are probably bodyguards, but they all seem to be in some sort of alcoholic coma. 

‘Hi, Grimmy,’ Niall shouts and gets up and giving Nick a violent hug. Nick nearly topples over from the force of it and nearly spills his drink.   
He watches as Harry’s face splits into a grin and gets up from his stool beside one of the other massive popstars in the room. 

‘What are you doing here?’ Harry asks and shakes Nick’s hand firmly and lingering. 

‘Was going to get drinks with Cazza and Finchy,’ he replies. ‘Though I’d come around and say hello.’ 

‘Yeah, yeah, you should,’ Harry says. ‘Have you met Ed yet?’ 

Nick gets introduced around and meets Ed Sheeran who he must admit is one of the best things about British music at the moment and the rest of the people there don’t make much of an impression, not the way Ed does. There is of course also the infamous Taylor, who is an impressive force, sweet and wholeheartedly American, but Nick knows she’s smart, that underneath all that charm there’s a woman who has worked her whole life to reach her thirty million twitter followers, who worked so hard she’s even won against Beyoncé. Besides that, no matter what Harry tells him otherwise, she’s the wall of confidence that somehow makes Harry come back again and again. Nick can’t compete with that at all, though he wishes he could try. 

She obviously seizes him up, eyes narrowed slightly, but she seems tired. She seems tired of whatever she and Harry are fighting over and maybe she’s had enough. Nick can certainly relate since he sometimes wants to shout at Harry as well.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she says. ‘Have fun.’ 

Ed gives her a hug and Harry pointedly ignores her. It’s all a bit surreal, but the people surrounding them don’t seem too bothered, so it’s probably a common thing. She leaves the room with a polite ‘thank you’ to Finchy and disappears from view. Ed gives Harry a hard punch on the shoulder and gives him a pointed look. 

Harry rolls his eyes in return. ‘Not today,’ he says and shifts his attention back to Nick. 

The thing about Harry is that you never know where you are going to end up. Whatever tiff had been going on before Nick arrived is quickly forgotten and Harry is cheerful and tactile around everyone, shouting bad jokes and snickering at his bodyguards’ attempts to stop him going on the Tube into Shoreditch. Ed is as cool as Nick always though he would be, cool and laid back enough for Nick’s obnoxious loudness to be appreciated and Nick’s obviously charmed. The trip from Tristan Park into central London takes about half an hour and before it’s been five minutes, Niall guiding them through a ridiculous drinking game that Finchy and Harry seem to be equally bad at. There’s three men at about forty, obviously on some sort of brotherly bonding trip, also in the car with them and it doesn’t take Niall long to include them. Nick laughs so much his throat hurts and he even sees Caroline, as the lone women in the group of men, dabbing her eyes from crying in sheer mirth. 

Nick always forgets how very charming Harry is, how much Nick simply adores everything he does and how it doesn’t even matter that they’re not together, not when Harry’s right there within touching distance and Nick can smell his aftershave and sees the way Harry sweeps his hair up in almost a replica move Nick does a thousand times a day.

‘On a scale of one to ten, how much do you fancy Harry Styles right now?’ Caroline murmurs when they finally reach their station and fights their way out of the crowded and turisted landing.

‘About a hundred,’ Nick says in an overly excited voice. They are already attracting enough attention and if he can take some of attention from Harry he’s probably done him a service. It’s not like anyone’s heard Caroline, so he’s not got anything to worry about. There is also a chance alcohol is making him shout, but he’s in such high spirits that he can’t possibly care. He’s high on the company, of being with two of his best friends and of being surrounded by people that generally make him laugh. Also the fact that the whole night reminds him of a sort of cheap uni party plays a rather large part of why he’s having such a good time. They’re drinking from bottles of beer hidden in brown paper bags that Finchy magically made appear seconds before they left the hotel, wearing clothes made in hipster heaven, going by Tube and being with a group of people from all kinds of places. The three men are from Ireland and instantly Niall’s best friends, Ed looks like he’s still sleeping on the sofa, Harry’s in flannels and Caroline always looks like she’s on the runway when not in work clothes. 

The only slight difference is that they won’t be sneaking through bouncers without paying; they’ll be escorted straight to the front and whisked into the VIP area of whatever place they choose. There will undoubtedly be pap pictures in the morn and Harry have already been stopped ten times for autographs and fan pictures. But none of that is on Nick’s mind when Harry looks up at him between signing autographs and just smiles. Something presses against his chest and it’s not his own hand. It’s inside… it’s just this feeling inside that intensifies when Harry’s around. 

Before two, Niall’s drunk his new Irish friends under the table and they leave the club clutching each other with stupid grins and photos of the group for their daughters and wives. Ed’s skedaddled somewhere across the road, within shouting distance from the club and is chatting up a group of girls. Finchy’s met up with his girlfriend snogging in some corner and Nick is staring at Harry and Caroline dancing across the shoulder of some bloke that had caught Nick’s attention when he bent down to pick something off the floor. His name is Brent and Nick’s definitely interested… almost. He’s at least interested in his six-pack visible through his form-fitting shirt. 

When Harry leans in to whisper something in Caroline’s ear, all flirty smiles and long lashes, Nick grabs Brent’s wrist and pushes their way through the mass of dancing bodies towards the gents. Brent follows willingly and when he smiles Nick can even pretend he looks something like RJ who he at least fancies. The stalls are all occupied, but it doesn’t really matter when Brent kisses him and he’s a half decent kisser. 

‘Not the hair,’ Nick gets out between kisses when he feels Brent fumbling with the hair at his neck. 

‘Fine,’ Brent snickers and does what he’s told while still maintaining a nice dosage of kissing. 

Nick starts to feel something close to attraction, the casual kind, when suddenly Brent’s stumbling backwards and out of reach. He grabs at him, but stops when he sees the person towering over Brent. 

‘Piss off,’ Harry tells the poor bloke. 

Brent looks at Nick and confusion, which Nick just replies with a shrug. Brent leaves with a disappointed sigh and it doesn’t take Harry long to push Nick into a newly emptied stall and lock it behind him. He crowds Nick into the wall and the air charges with something forgotten in the misery of Nick knowing that Harry was leaving so long ago when Harry was just that cheeky reserve from Cheshire. Nick’s breath is shaky and he can feel Harry having the same problem because they are standing that close. He slowly traces his hand slowly up Harry’s left arm, coming to rest on the nape of his neck, and Harry breathes deep, closing his eyes. They lean closer to each other, if that’s even possible, and Nick can almost taste Harry’s breath. His heart is pounding and for a moment it feels like a Sunday afternoon in bed when they had been the only two people in the world. 

‘Harry, are you in here?’ Caroline’s voice penetrates Nick’s beating heart and he pushes Harry backwards and into the other wall. Suddenly, it all comes back – the way Harry looked at her on the dancefloor and the way Taylor keeps being mad at Harry, even when they aren’t together. 

Harry reaches out, but Nick shakes his head no. 

‘Please,’ Harry begs slowly and Nick fancies him so much. He so much wants to step that one step forward and press his chest to Harry. He would forget everything then. He won’t in the long run, but he will while Harry’s there, but Harry always leave and it’ll all come rushing back. 

‘No,’ Nick finally says out loud and digs into his trousers for the little blue pill hidden there. ‘No,’ he says again and swallows it dryly. ‘No,’ he says finally and opens the stall door and effectively leaves Harry behind. 

He finds Caroline quickly enough and they disappear into the night. 

\--

They’ve not slept at wink when they arrive at the Beeb in the morning. Nick’s still running high and Caroline’s not had a proper night out in months and she’s happily still running strong. He does a very giggly weekend Breakfast Show and after promising to spend most his Sunday at work, his producer puts him in a cabbie with Caroline. It’s not until Caroline made them both a toastie that the sadness starts setting in. He becomes startlingly quiet and Caroline frowns. 

‘Did something happen?’ she asks worried, voice even hoarser than usual. 

‘I think I just turned down Harry,’ he says quietly. ‘What on Mother Earth did I do that for?’ 

‘I think for all the right reasons,’ she says softly, stroking his hand. ‘Didn’t you?’ 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Yeah, I think I did.’ 

When they finally undress and Caroline snuggles in to be the big spoon, Nick cries. He never cries but he always seems to cry because of Harry. It’s like everything he feels sometimes becomes too much and it’s all for this one person. 

Caroline wakes him hours later. ‘Someone’s at the door,’ she says. 

Nick scrambles up sourly and grumbles the whole way to the door.

‘Nick, are you there?’ Harry’s voice floats through the door and Nick stops in his path. ‘Nick, open the door, please!’ 

The bell rings, followed by a couple of knocks. He reaches for the doorknob but he doesn’t twist it. 

‘I think we should talk,’ Harry keeps up. ‘If you’re there that is.’

Nick takes a step backwards and turns away. The couch is comfy and he’s really dead tired. He hears Caroline’s bare feet across the floor and the door opening. He’s safe on the couch, out of sight from the front door, but he can still hear them. 

‘Not now,’ she says. 

‘Is he here?’ Harry asks voice deep and tired. 

‘Does it matter? I’m the one answering the door.’ 

‘Is he mad?’ 

‘No, mostly just sad,’ she says honestly and Nick grimaces. ‘I think you should leave now.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Harry says with an air of finality. The soft click of the door swiftly follows and Nick turns on the telly. Caroline returns with ice-cream and he honestly loves her so much. It’s a bit cliché, but anything with Zac Efron in it and ice-cream really is a cure for all ills. 

Caroline has to leave eventually, but instead Nick gets an unexpected housemate. Collette Cooper is a sort of friend of a friend thing he’s made at some event. They have always got on and during the week following the disaster in Shoreditch see Collette fleeing her rat-infested apartment and seeking some place to live temporarily. Nick’s sick of being lonely and she even offers to make food, so Nick gets a cure for his loneliness and she gets a springy bed from Pixie’s basement. 

Collette’s dead charming and lovely. Soon they are spending every waking moment together and Nick sort of hates himself for not getting to know her sooner. She’s a no bullshit sort of person and that is one trait in people that he loves above all else. In a world where a lot of people have to bullshit and he even makes a living doing it, he loves her for being straightforward and simply fun. She fits seamlessly into his many groups of friends and takes to Gells and Aimee in four seconds flat, which is the only thing that matters in the end. 

Through all of this Harry’s made several attempts to get in contact, both through straightforward texts and calls and sneakier calls through Niall; Nick’s not done a thing to return it. But when he sees Harry and Taylor officially make their break-up public, he can’t help feeling a small sense of satisfaction. 

Yet, he’s still surprised when Harry storms into the studio on a Thursday evening in the middle of a show, panting and red-faced. Nick finishes up a link and gives him a frown. 

Harry turns Nick’s wheely chair and leans down to lean on the arms with his face close enough to Nick for it to be a bit annoying. ‘This is how it’s going to go,’ he says. ‘Tomorrow’s Friday, right, and I’m taking you to dinner at eight. It’s going to be dead romantic and like I’ll dress fancy and I hope you will too. And I’ve decided you can’t say no this time.’ 

‘Okay,’ Nick says stunned. ‘Yeah, okay.’ 

Harry’s face breaks into a smile and he ducks down and presses a quick kiss to Nick’s lips. ‘Bye!’ he shouts over his shoulder and runs back out of the studio. 

Nick can’t help but grin through the whole of his next link. 

‘Did you just agree to a date?’ his producer asks scandalized. ‘By…’

‘By someone special, yes,’ Nick interrupts her during the live link. ‘I’d say drinks all around, but we’re working and that’s not responsible.   
So, in honor of that, here’s Pharrell Williams with his 2014 hit Happy.’

Harry Styles, the producer mouth wide-eyed. ‘How the bloody hell did you manage that?’ she asks once they are off air. 

‘I’m dead good-looking, me,’ Nick says with a bright smile. He shouldn’t be happy about Harry coming to see him like that, assuming that he could just do that, but now that it’s happened Nick wants the date to happen so badly. Just once, he wants to forget it all and though he probably shouldn’t, he really wants to.


	6. Chapter 6

He wakes early on Friday, having fretted through most of the night, tossing and turning with his mind going into overdrive. Harry’s not even twenty-two yet, but he has got Nick in some sort of hold. Nick’s nine (well, ten) years older than him and he really should know better. It doesn’t matter though when his heart beats the familiar unsettling staccato whenever Harry’s around. Even when he inevitably grows into some sort of jealous tit every time he sees Harry around someone else he so much as winks at. It’s a curse, honestly.

He’s on his fifth smoke of the day at eight, smoke twirling into the rather bright early autumn morning. He shuffles his stylish booths on the grass and suddenly remembers a very important detail to why this whole date should absolutely not happen. 

‘Bleeding ‘ell,’ he curses and puts out the cigarette in an old Jack D bottle left from a summer party long ago. He scrambles for his phone and before he psyches himself out of it, it’s ringing. 

‘Hello?’ Harry answers from the other end, probably still half asleep and a bit dead to the world. 

‘I’ve got a boyfriend,’ Nick stutters out fast and it sort of becomes a mumble of not-words. 

He hears a bit of rustling. 

‘What?’ Harry asks confused. 

‘Boyfriend, me, I’ve got one,’ Nick says a bit more clearly and a lot slower. ‘It’s a thing where like two blokes who like each other have like something regular and bleeding hell I forgot. Like how do you forget that you’ve got a boyfriend? I mean it’s a bit undefined and stuff, but I’ve essentially got a boyfriend.’

There’s just empty silence on the other end, so Nick lights another cigarette waiting. 

‘I thought –,’ Harry says slowly and coughs. ‘I thought that –’

‘You weren’t wrong,’ Nick tells him softly. ‘Please, please don’t think you were wrong.’ 

‘All right, I guess,’ Harry says after another horrible stretch of silence. Then he hangs up and Nick’s standing in his garden with his sixth cig of the day feeling empty. Then his phone starts ringing and he knows the ringtone, especially downloaded one night in bed because RJ loves Glee. Well, Nick’s stopped believing that he can fuck more up, so he takes the call and he’s going to be a man about it. 

RJ’s heard because of course. The World Wide Web makes it virtually impossible to keep something like this from someone under 25 years of age and those persistent enough, not always in a bad way, make it achingly hard to do anything without social commentary. Try as he might to downplay it, Nick does have a fine fan-following that actually want anything to do with him that isn’t purely being named Geldof or Styles and having enough pound notes to sleep in a very large uncomfy bed, you know, metaphorically. Most days that fact sort of blows his mind and he's not even got half the fans that Harry's got with the numbers spreading steadily throughout the world the more promo he does. 

The worst part is that RJ is not even mad; there is only a quiet sort of acceptance over the fact that Nick fancies someone else - like he always knew. When RJ asks him quietly if it's someone he knows; Nick knows he can't answer. Not because he doesn't want to, but because it's Harry Styles and for all his confidence and apparent acceptance of all kinds of relationships, coming out is still no small deal. Nick feels like the biggest arsehole in Britain, especially when RJ tells him he's had fun, that he wouldn't change any of it. RJ is actually all sorts of wonderful and Nick spends the rest of the Friday being sad, almost crying when Adele performs something from her record-breaking new album on telly. Then Aimee comes around after a fight with Ian and it's a sort of a self-pitying sobfest all-around. 

Yet, losing RJ is not like losing Harry. There never were any denial about the long-distance, the need for secrecy or for that fact any major fights. Nick thinks maybe it was too easy. Maybe there hadn't been enough passion, but he'd always felt so comfortable around RJ, so appreciated and liked. He never really second-guessed RJ's intentions or thought he would do anything to effectually hurt him. They were together and God had it been lovely. But nothing RJ ever did makes Nick's blood pump the way it did in the bathrooms of that club in Shoreditch or fills Nick’s head with lovesongs just by being around the person. 

‘Nicholas!’ Aimee hisses and points at the television screen for that week’s X-Factor. 

Nick snaps back into reality and focuses on the screen and sees absolutely nothing while his eyes focus. ‘Is that Liam?’ 

‘And Louis,’ Aimee exclaims. 

Zayn and Niall are there as well, standing beside Liam and Louis, all with gigantic smiles on their faces right beside Dermot.

‘Are they auditioning?’ Aimee says with a high shrill quality to her voice that sounds quite unbecoming on an American. 

Nick hushes her and they listen to the lads explain their background, noting the clear lack of Harry in their explanation. They are called One Direction according to Liam who says that the name came from a friend of theirs who thought the name would sound cool when the ‘X-Factor guy said it’. Nick can imagine five young boys, all from different backgrounds with different families and very different personalities, sitting around some campfire in the North, dreaming about the world and how to conquer it. 

‘I can’t wait to hear them sing,’ Nick says and he genuinely means it. He’s got it directly from Harry that they can all sing, but Harry might be biased since they are his best friends. 

They sing ‘Here Comes the Sun’ in acapella, almost perfectly in tune, but where they lack in perfect timing they make up for in sheer charm and charisma 

‘They are… good?’ Aimee says surprised. 

The judges puts them through not surprisingly and Nick’s nearly pressed Harry’s name to call, but drops the offending thing before he presses more salt into the whole wound-thing. Harry must have known, must have stood on the sidelines guiding the lads on, and paved the way with his popstar smile. But in the end it’s the judges that decide on talent alone, no matter what their producers says from the sidelines. 

Nick and Aimee both jump up and down in joy instead. ‘That’s our lads!’ they shout and there is definite pride there alongside a new nervousness for the rest of the show. Nick instantly wants them to win and conquer the world, just because they are so bloody hard-working and decent people. They’d be so good at the whole thing, he’s not doubt and Aimee agrees when he shouts it at her over the ABBA mix he’s put on. 

\--

 

*Harry Styles Original Fifth Member of X-Factor Boyband One Direction?

On Friday saw the third week of auditions, this final day on London where six thousand people turned up: among those were Louis, Liam, Zayn and Niall – now more popularly known as One Direction – hoping to advance further in the competition. All in similar age, they met at music camp about eleven years ago and became instant friends. They all moved to London within years of each other and consequently started working at the infamous Tristan Park Hotel that has fostered such celebrities as Radio 1’s late night and weekend Breakfast Show DJ Nick ‘Grimmy’ Grimshaw and internationally recognized superstar Harry Styles. 

In fact, Harry Styles has made no secret of how close he is with the lads, often bringing them with him on tours and being a major benefactor in One Direction Catering – their company that caters exclusively for the rich and famous, bringing good use of Louis and Zayn’s training. And so we wonder if only Simon Cowell had discovered the lads at the same time if Harry Styles would have become the phenomenon he is today or if One Direction would have risen with him. 

We sure wish them all the luck in the world.* 

 

‘I didn’t see it coming,’ Nick says as he crashes Scott Mills’ show. ‘Maybe in hindsight I did find it odd that none of the lads came to Denmark with Harry. They usually do and Harry legitimately told me they had, and I quote directly, a ‘thing’ they had to do.’

‘It does fit with the dates of the London auditions,’ Scott muses. 

‘Well, there you go,’ Nick says with a flourish. ‘I think it’s grand.’

‘It does quite stir things up on this year’s X-Factor. It’s not quite been good these past two years. No one has really made a smash through the relative fame of the show.’

Nick can’t help but agree and tries to remember the winner from the year before. He can only remember it being a scandal that one of the contestants got booted off because of a criminal past. Scott thanks him for crashing the show and just as he’s leaving the building, his phone beeps with an incoming text. 

Heard you with Scott just now, Harry writes and asks if he fancies lunch, followed by an emoji of a baguette. 

Usually, this is where Nick ignores the text with some difficulty and moves on with his day. Today though, Nick texts back something about French food and get a swift reply of ‘Margot’s in an hour’. He’s already near SoHo and it’d be just a waste going back home to Primrose Hill just to set out after a couple of minutes, so he figures he can get some clothes shopping done, because yes that is a legitimate stress reliever. 

Harry’s already there chatting with some very excited fans, skinny jeans and a plaid shirt, almost exactly a replica of Nick’s outfit. 

‘Are you trying to steal my clothes, Harry Styles?’ Nick says mock-scandalized and the fans do a double-take. Harry shoots him a cheeky smile and Nick’s got to pose with him all of a sudden. Not that he minds all that much. They make it into the restaurant after about ten minutes, Harry having the patience of a saint while Nick provides amusing commentary to the girls’ shrill voices. 

They get a table in the back, out of sight from the window, and with a minimum of awkwardness they order lunch and drinks mostly because it requires very little conversation. It’s only when the waiter has gone and they are sitting alone that the awkwardness settles over them like a suffocating blanket. 

‘So, X-Factor,’ Nick says and his voice is a bit higher than he intended. 

Harry actually looks relieved. ‘I think that it’s like the right thing to do. They have wanted to and such so I’m happy.’

‘You can’t just give them Simon’s number? Or are we talking major conspiracy here?’ Nick says and winks at him. 

‘No, it’s like… uhh,’ Harry says stumblingly. It’s like sometimes he has so many words and he spends so much time thinking about what to say, so when it actually needs to be spoken nothing really comes out. ‘I can’t like really say.’

Nick frowns. ‘Are you hiding something?’ 

‘Not a boyfriend that’s for sure,’ Harry mumbles, downthrown eyes on the table and Nick feels like he’s been slapped. 

‘Well, you did once,’ Nick throws back and bites his lip. Sometimes he talks before he thinks and it is shit. 

‘Not really,’ Harry says and he sounds honest. ‘Did you honestly not think back then-‘ 

‘No,’ Nick says instantly. ‘When you fancy someone you don’t think.’ 

Harry fiddles with his napkin and Nick follows his eyes as they track around the restaurant, briefly settling on a family of four with very small children. There is not a lot of noise, only the soft sound of something instrumental coming from the speakers and a bit of chattering around. It is pricey restaurant, so in theory only people ready to spend money on such things go there, which is probably why it’s mostly free of tourists. Right now he’s glad. 

‘RJ broke up with me,’ Nick allows softly and Harry’s eyes focus back onto Nick’s face. ‘Said he’d had a blast and all, but no one should really be okay about their boyfriend accepting dates with other blokes. I sat around drinking wine and watching ‘17 Again’ with Aimee, so it’s alright now.’

‘I haven’t seen Taylor since that night at Tristan Park,’ Harry says and it’s all out in the open. There is nothing keeping them apart. ‘I really want this to be a date now.’

Nick grins. ‘A date is good, yeah.’ 

\--

And so the tentative beginnings of their relationship begin, both struggling to find time, but still deciding it’s worth it. Nick works seven days a week and when he’s not on air, he’s in production meetings and when he’s not in production meeting he struggles to find time for both friends and Harry. It does make it much easier when Harry fits effortlessly into Nick’s group of friends and he doesn’t have to make time for two circles of people he genuinely likes. Work at Tristan Park picks up again and he knows they’ll struggle to find time outside of their working hours to do anything but sleep, so he lets Finchy, Aimee and Caroline off for not texting as often and takes Ian out drinking with him, Harry and Collette. He’s done so many shows in a state of drunkenness that people probably expect it from him and no one really complains because he makes bloody good radio. 

The lads are busy with X-Factor, so Nick finally learns where Harry spends his time when not with them and when he’s not with Nick.   
Nick has met Ben Winston many times through work-related activities and he’s not got a bloody clue how Harry managed to score a spare room in Ben Winston’s house. Probably the same way he’s got a sofa pull-out at Lou Teasdale’s house. Fact is that Harry introduces Nick to a much more private side of his London life when he’s not on the road. Ben and Lou’s families bring a sense of normalcy to Harry’s otherwise hectic life when he doesn’t have the time to track north to visit his family. Nick wants to be that too, but when all is said and done, whatever fledging thing they’ve got going on, it’s not steady enough for anything serious not matter how serious their intentions are. 

There is also the gigantic neon light blinking WARNING, WARNING, because the media’s version of Harry Styles the Popstar is a straight white male with a whole lot of money. He’s notoriously known for dating and the fact that he’s not been spotted with a girl outside Nick’s circle of socialite friends has got the tabloids in frenzy. His every move is calculatingly followed and when Gryles becomes front page news, Nick knows they have got to have a conversation about the whole thing soon enough. 

But being together isn’t hard. They’ve always got on easily, always had something to talk about. There is always something mind-numbing on telly to watch and always someone to socialize with. They fit together into each other’s life seamlessly even when Harry goes back into the studio and Nick spends an entire day seeing him working, seeing him strive for the right range of his voice. And then Harry becomes an almost permanent fixture on the night show, not live, but just by being around, messing with Nick. They go to fancy restaurants and eat fancy meals and meet interesting people and eventually falling back into bed with each other. 

And while all of that is happening, behind mostly closed doors, One Direction becomes a national phenomenon with girls shouting through most of the live shows and while the two other groups are voted off within weeks of each, the lads never fight for survival in the bottom two. They go head to head with Matt Cardle and Rebecca Ferguson, who although good, has none of the media attention One Direction receives. Harry navigates through rumors of a Cowell conspiracy, that somehow Simon are testing them for something greater, that he plans to give them a recording contract no matter what and that in the end the competition will just be a platform to launch them. It sounds completely ludicrous, yet when the world starts paying attention, Nick must admit that there must have been some sort of strategic thought behind it all. Harry remains suspiciously tight-lipped about the whole thing to Nick, but brilliantly plays the media into thinking that the decision made by the lads were their own decision and he didn’t know but a few days before the final auditions. 

It’s not until Simon lets a few selected lawyers rummage through his papers that the media seems satisfied that there isn’t a signed contract placed somewhere in SYCO’s headquarters. Harry does confide in Nick that One Direction Catering directly paid for voice lessons and since the lads own equal shares in the company there isn’t really anything dodgy about it. It’s a legitimate business with legitimate papers and though also that has been scrutinized, there is nothing to be found. No one can say anything. 

\--

Harry goes on American Idol in the end of October and the night before he’s got a plane to catch, they lie in Nick’s bed cuddled together under the duvet. Nick’s got his head cuddled on Harry shoulder while Harry’s finger traces his spine softly and Nick’s playing with the soft hairs under Harry’s belly. They are usually shaved away, but he likes it. It’s such a man thing and above else Nick’s sure he’s gay because blokes are fantastic when they’re not twats. 

‘Nick,’ Harry says softly, breaking the silence. 

‘Hmm,’ Nick hums in reply. 

‘I have to see Taylor.’ 

Nick sits up, taking the duvet with him. Harry’s as shameless as ever, but he does look uncomfortable, which probably has to do with the conversation topic. 

‘It’s a business thing,’ Harry adds. ‘I just didn’t want you to see on twitter or sumthin.’ 

Nick puts space between them and lies down on his back beside Harry, turning his eyes to the ceiling. Harry turns on his side, supporting his head with his hand. 

‘Nick?’ Harry asks frowning. 

‘It’s not like we’re in a proper relationship or anything,’ Nick says and it physically hurts. ‘Do what you want.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Harry says and ducks down to press kisses to Nick’s bare shoulder, but Nick can’t stand the pity in his eyes and turns his back to him. 

‘Please go,’ Nick says and his voice breaks. To think he was so perfectly happy just moments before and that just a simple thing as that can ruin everything. He knows he’s being insecure, but Taylor is such a sore spot in all of this. 

Harry hesitates, but eventually gets up and redresses slowly. His phone and wallet are on ‘his’ own side of the bed and even his passport is in an YSL messenger bag by the foot of his bed alongside his laptop. That’s Harry Styles’ whole life in a messenger bag. 

‘This is mental,’ he mutters and leaves Nick’s place in a manner of seconds. 

By the same time the next day, there are pap pictures of Harry and Taylor out and about in LA and while they don’t seem particularly cheerful, there will always be a sort of easy disposition between them that Nick refuses to be jealous about. It’s absolutely mind-blowing to think that Harry could have her – the biological kids, the white picket fence and the easy public image. Nick’s a bloke nine years Harry’s senior who will undoubtedly ‘destroy’ Larry for thousands of fans and make Taylor into some sort of gay cover up. As much as Nick absolutely adores Harry, he’s not sure he can be part of that. 

When he is sat with Pixie in a café and ‘Happily’ comes on, he has a mini meltdown and decides to get blindingly drunk just to forget how epically good he is at chasing Harry away. Pixie is oblivious and doesn’t think anything is wrong until she’s petting his hair while he pukes down the toilet while Collette fetches water. 

‘I’m never drinking tequila again,’ Nick says, voice rough and wipes his mouth with his hands. He needs a shower anyway. 

‘What brought all this on?’ she asks. 

‘Promise not to tell anyone?’ he says seriously. He’s never told her about Harry, not about what they got up to in the privacy of his home. Some have guessed (Henry), some phoned Caroline (Gillian) and some just assumed without really knowing anything (the entire world). 

She gives him a speculative look. ‘Who’ve you fucked now?’ 

‘Harry,’ he says and then pukes some more. 

She looks at him blankly. ‘That could be Prince Harry for all I know, Nicholas.’

He snorts. ‘Good one. I’ll raise ya with Harry Styles.’ 

He never thought Pixie Geldof could look scandalized, since she’s created enough of her own in her short live. Yet, it’s the exact face she’s giving him now.

‘How many times and in how many positions?’ she whispers. 

‘From the sounds of his bedsprings they’ve done their fair share,’ Collette says from the doorway. She hands Nick a cigarette before she even dares put the water anywhere near him. He puffs on the cancer stick gratefully and is abundantly happy that the smoke nearly chokes the smell of tequila and curry floating about the toilet. 

‘That’s rank that,’ he comments and leans away from the bowl. 

Pixie flushes dutifully. ‘I like Harry.’

‘Me, too,’ Nick sighs and leans over the bowl again to try to puke up the smoke. It’s mostly just bile now and thank fuck those ladies have seen him in worse situations. 

‘I know you’re being a proper mong about it,’ Collette says pointedly. ‘You could just ask him to be your boyfriend.’ 

Nick rolls his eyes at her. ‘Bugger off - like anyone would.’ 

‘Harry dead fancies you, you stupid cow,’ Collette says. ‘You could just ask him.’

‘Not a chance. He could ask me if it’s something he really wants,’ he says determinately. 

‘Pretty sure he’s tried,’ Collette says. 

Nick shakes his head no. ‘He really hasn’t.’

‘Fine, I give up,’ Collette says and disappears back to her make-shift bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Tuesday evening, a very normal evening by all accounts, Nick Grimshaw’s life changes forever. 

Not even making national radio or finishing his three years of traineeship or meeting Harry or all the other important people in his life can even compare to the complete onslaught thrown his way because of one single bloody picture… or well two, but that one is really blurry. 

‘We’ve got Sarah to play The Great and Powerful Example Quiz of the night,’ Nick says brightly into the microphone and he doesn’t know.  
‘Hiya Sarah!’ 

‘Hiya Grimmy,’ she says and this is usually where Nick asks her where she is and where she’s from, but she never gives him the change. 

‘Have you seen them?’ 

‘Seen what, love?’ he asks and gives his producer a helpless shrug. 

‘The pictures of you and Harry Styles,’ Sarah says. ‘I couldn’t believe it.’ 

‘There are a lot of pictures I’m sure of me and Harry,’ Nick says and rolls his eyes. You can’t always filter the cray cray ones, but he does try not to stroke the flame. ‘Any particulars ones you’re thinking of?’

‘What’s it like?’ 

‘I don’t follow,’ Nick says confused. 

‘Snogging Harry,’ Sarah says and her voice has gone up a couple of octaves. ‘I mean everyone guessed you know, but we never thought-‘ 

‘All right, here’s Macklemore’s latest,’ Nick says hurriedly and switches on the cued-up track. He takes Sarah off-air but doesn’t swift her off completely. ‘What on Earth are you talking off?’ 

‘Haven’t you seen the pictures?’ she says. ‘They are all over the Internet. It’s trending on twitter and everything.’

Nick’s producer is already on it with a frown that seems to deepen and while Sarah’s still talking, he’s got Ian Chaloner banging down his door with Zane Lowe hot on his heels. 

‘Thanks, Sarah, have a great one,’ Nick says distractedly. 

‘Not as good as yours,’ Sarah says cheekily and Nick can only vaguely hear the dial tone before his producer switches it off. 

He’s been warned again and again about the fact that Harry fans were adamant and that some spent their lives on these things. Not to belittle their efforts because honestly it’s great detective work. Apparently with a little bit of persistence, the Internet allows you to find everything. But the pictures shown to Nick are not of the skinny jeans-wearing tattooed nineteen year-old that he once dated or the two years older version of now, caught in some moment where they forgot the world. It’s not even them in the foreground, but instead a high-quality nightclub picture of Niall, Liam and Zayn ages ago and it’s not until he looks closer that he sees a cherub-faced Harry with a tight polo, a blazer and worn trainers pressed against a bar looking for all the world like the cat who got the canary. A much younger and much more curly-haired Nick’s doing the pressing against the bar wearing the same grin and he generally looks like he’s having the time of his life. That picture in itself doesn’t really mean anything, but the one Sarah’s talking about and the one that’s got the world in frenzy is the next one where yes, Nick is snogging what seems the life out of poor Harry who’s enthusiastically gripping Nick’s plaid button-up. 

‘When was this?’ Nick’s voice croaks and he’s gripping his headphones. Zane Lowe gently takes them away from him and puts them on. Ian’s plan probably. 

‘Niall, Liam and Zayn of One Direction at Harry Styles’ first gig with Ed Sheeran in November, 2010, at Sylvester’s Lounge in Manchester,’ Nick’s producer reads. 

‘No wonder Louis hates me,’ Nick exclaims. ‘Harry must’ve been-‘

‘He was sixteen, thank God,’ Ian says. ‘At least he was over the age of consent. This is a nightmare, Nick!’ 

‘Oh, a nightmare, you say,’ Nick says, throwing his hands up. ‘First time I met… first time I thought I met Harry the first thing I asked was if I’d ever slept with him. How do I forget something like that?’ 

‘You don’t remember like nothing at all?’ Ian asks and he looks like he’s going for a small miracle. 

‘I’ve nothing,’ Nick says honestly. ‘I don’t even remember going to the gig.’ 

Ian sighs. ‘I expect Big Boss Cooper wants to see you at earliest convenience. You’re going to be crucified in the tabs. Just look at what happened with Cara.’ 

Nick startles when his phone starts bleeping and it doesn’t stop for a month. Meanwhile, Ian lends him his own to call Harry who had heard only seconds before Nick from his overworked publicists. 

‘I thought you knew,’ Harry says tiredly. 

‘Knew, Harry, you don’t think I’d have said something if I’d remembered!’ Nick shouts and Ian herds him out of the studio so Zane can continue his show and prevent a gigantic fine for dead air. ‘This is worse than if you came out.’ 

‘I’m not gay, Nick,’ Harry says and of course that’s what important. 

‘You’re something.’

‘I’m Harry and I refuse to be labeled like that, which is exactly what the press is going to hear from my end,’ he says determined. ‘Also I was at a club at sixteen, trying to be eighteen, and when Louis said they needed help at the hotel I thought I’d won the fucking gallery.’ 

Nick is actually speechless. 

‘Look, I’ve got the number of this guy Jack,’ Harry says calmly. ‘He worked at Modest Management awhile back. He’s got his own company now. He knows my people and he’s dead good at this stuff. Just call him, all right. Don’t try to take on the media on your own.’

‘I don’t think Ian would let me,’ Nick says. 

‘Ian’s a mate,’ Harry says and Nick can hear a car shifting alive. ‘Ed is driving me to LAX now. I’ll be in London soon enough.’

Nick does take Jack’s number and does decide to call him. He’s got no idea where to start in all of this and just as Ian puts him in a cab a group of paps get a pretty clear shot. The media has already been paying Harry enough attention because of the lads on X-Factor and this is going to skyrocket the scrutiny to previously unseen levels. And Nick recognizes himself on those photos, so a good number of other people will as well. As much as he tried to talk himself out of readying himself for the day that Harry decided enough was enough and he’d proudly state Nick as his boyfriend - he still had. But nothing could have prepared him for this shit-storm of a once bad decision. 

And Nick knows himself enough to know that he would probably have entertained the thought that Harry was maybe a bit young back then. The trouble is that Harry is charming and exactly Nick’s type. He would have overlooked it and buggered with the consequences. It would have been perfectly alright if Harry hadn’t met Ed Sheeran and Simon Cowell. 

Even more paps meet him in Primrose Hill outside his flat and he promptly tells the cabbie to drive on. Gillian will be kind – or will at least try to be.

 

\--

 

*Harry Styles Bags Radio 1 DJ Grimmy at 16! See the exclusive photos inside

This morning, pictures surfaced on social media of a certain known womanizing popstar and out socialite DJ that has left the world in shock. Not only does it show Harry Styles, known for his long-time girlfriend country princess Taylor Swift, smooching with a bloke, but it’s with a then unknown Nick Grimshaw of Radio 1. The two revealing pictures taken at Sylvester’s Lounge in November 2010 shows the One Direction lads supporting their famous friend, but unknown to them Hazza and Grimmy were snogging in the background. 

Tumblr user ‘stylinsonkisses’ commented: “I always thought there was something weird going on between Harry and Grimmy, but I never  
thought it’d be this. My heart has literally imploded with feels!”

We certainly have feels as stylinsonkisses describes it. The pictures were dated as some devout fans found similarities with the clothes worn by Harry in these official shots from the revenue and on Ed Sheeran’s official fanpage to the clothes he’s wearing in the pictures with Grimmy. 

This does begs the question why Grimmy, who at the time was 26, found himself enthralled by an actual ten years younger teenage boy. It seems not even he was immune to Harry infinite charm.*

 

 

\--

 

 

*Insider Reveals Styles/Grimshaw Romance Dating Back to 2013

With the world still reeling in shock over revealing Gryles pictures, more truths seem to appear from the people surrounding the two men. During a break from touring in 2013, an insider close to Ed Sheeran reveals that Harry Styles left then girlfriend Taylor Swift to live closer to his family. Best friend Louis Tomlinson of One Direction, then a trainee at Tristan Park Hotel in North London, swiftly recruited the charming lad to work as an unskilled waiter alongside Zayn Malik and Nick Grimshaw. Apparently, romance quickly blossomed between the two, until it came to an abrupt halt when Harry was signed to Simon Cowell’s label. 

Below are the pictures that started it all. Leave your comments below.*

 

\--

 

Dear people of the world,

As you may know, a few days ago, pictures of me and Harry Styles kissing made front page news, partly because Harry was kissing a man, but also because he at the time was sixteen. I could offer many scenarios and excuses as to why this happened, but to be absolutely truthful I still can’t remember a single thing about it even happening. That is not to say that kissing him isn’t memorable, but because I was drunk off my head and I actually can’t remember the event happening. What I can truthfully tell you is that I’ve fancied Harry a great many years and though we are nearly ten years separate in age, the difference could not be less keenly felt until these pictures came out of the blue. 

When he was nineteen, he had already seen the world and experienced every rejection, whereas I worked in a hotel I dearly still love with people I deeply care about. It was not until I saw him reach his goal that I had the courage to seek mine. He has in every which way inspired me to be the person I am today. I want to be kind, I want to be the best I can be and I want to take every success and treasure it because it doesn’t always come. In many ways, he taught me to see the world like a playground, a place I could conquer by being unfailingly nice and hold every friend dear because in the end you are nothing alone. 

I did never and I would never unknowingly intent to hurt the relationship between Harry and Taylor. They have their own issues dating back long before I became anything to Harry. I have never felt anything but a deep admiration for the way Taylor tackles the hate thrown her way. I have only met her briefly twice and she has never spoken a bad word about me. 

That said, Harry and I did get back together in September and were trying to define ourselves before anything went public. This, well, scandal has made us aware of how we couldn’t have lived under a rock for so long and for that I apologize. 

With all the love in the world, 

Grimmy

 

‘That’s really good,’ Jack, Nick’s new manager, says when he finishes reading the outcast Nick had just handed him. ‘Some small changes and a bit of grammar control and it’s good.’ 

Nick breathes a sigh of relief and stop worrying his lips. He’s been reassuring his mother relentlessly for two days now that Harry isn’t sixteen anymore and that yes, he really cares for him. 

‘It’s not right when Mrs. Griffin from Daffodil Road says you’re pervert,’ she had told him. ‘You’re not.’

His father won’t even speak to him, says he won’t have that conversation over phone and Nick’s got an invitation from an unknown number for tea and biscuits when he can walk outside a door again. It’s from Harry’s mother, Harry confirmed when he finally landed in England and tracked to North London to meet Nick at Tristan Park where he hides until he can go back home without being hounded. He can’t go to work or visit his parents because apparently, according to Harry’s security, it’s not safe. Instead Harry takes the brunt of it willingly, says it’s his mess to clean up. 

But Nick can’t stand back and do nothing. It won’t be anything like the difficult video Harry made to try and sort out why he isn’t gay or straight or bisexual or any of the many boxes people try to put him into. Sometimes, Nick thinks Harry doesn’t even know himself. Attraction for him is such a strange concept and the way he tries to describe it, it’s all about that moment where everything just clicks. 

He’s not had time to sit down with Harry once since they reunited forty-five hours earlier. Harry’s been on a constant media run while Nick sits with the blinds closed in a room the hotel management generously sorted for him. Aimee and Finchy brings up food while he watches EastEnders and 9 Out of 10 Cats and tries not to freak out more than he already is. In an effort to distort his whereabouts he’s not even got any of his other friends around. 

Jack’s been wonderful though, a real lifesaver, and Nick feels he can only hit himself for not having any sort of management before. He really should have with the friends he keeps and the bloke he decided to date. It could only bite in the end, which it did – spectacularly! Jack also has the advantage of being particularly good friends with Harry’s management and they coordinate without much trouble at all, though the mess they are in has created loads of overtime for everyone. Nick forgets sometimes that being famous is a fulltime job. There is no downtime; there are no breaks; or times where you can just hide because you feel like it. Especially someone as wanted as Harry has no private life to speak off. He really should have seen it coming in some capacity. 

He doesn’t think Harry was afraid of coming out of the not-quite-but-sometimes-gay closet, but he does think that it must have been such a massive thing to get out to the general public without it coming back to bite their record sales. Taylor is good for Harry’s sales and always has been. There is no teenage girl who’s not a fan of Harry’s who has not sung along to We Are Never Getting Back Together at some point. Nick’s at the other end of the spectrum. He won’t be anything but bad for anything, except maybe the LGBTQ community who Harry undoubtedly will become some sort of poster boy for… willingly or not. 

‘Do you want dinner or sumthin?’ Nick asks Jack when he’s shutting down his computer four hours after turning up in Nick’s room to work. 

‘I’ve got a dog at home,’ Jack says. 

‘Oh, that’s great,’ Nick says with false cheer. ‘I love dogs.’ 

‘You should get one,’ Jack tells him kindly. 

‘It’s a bit unfair for the poor dog. I can’t go outside, can I?’ Nick says miserably. 

Jack shrugs. ‘It’ll blow over. It always does. You’ll go back to work and before you know it everything will be back to normal.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Nick mumbles and throws himself on the grandiose bed. 

‘See you tomorrow,’ Jack says finally and leaves.

 

\--

 

He’s abruptly awoken sometime much later when a pillow is thrown in his face. He sputters awake and screeches Matt Fincham’s name. 

‘I’m not Finchy,’ Harry says looking dead on his feet, wearing clothes that looked like he had just travelled here from Thailand. 

Nick gets up instantly and goes to give Harry a bone-crushing hug. ‘Are you alright?’ he asks softly into Harry’s hair. 

Harry’s arms just tighten around Nick’s waist so that’s probably the best reply he’ll get. Nick’s taller than Harry, but he seldom remembers it because Harry is so large in every other aspect of life. But the way Nick can rest his head slightly against Harry's shoulders makes none of it matter. 

'It's good to see you,' Harry murmurs into Nick's neck.

Nick hums in reply. 

'I've brought McDonalds,' Harry says when they finally push apart. 

'Nice, yeah,' Nick says and sees the two paper bags by the door and the distinct smell of grease and melted cheese. He could eat, especially McDonalds. 

They don't talk for a while, munching on Big Macs and chips and Nick can imagine the buzzing in Harry's head from camera flashes and people trying to sort out what to do next. He can even see a bit of make-up still clinging to Harry's skin. 

'Taylor is really angry at me,' Harry says, mouth full of food. 

'Has your mother taught you not to speak with your mouth full?' Nick says and thinks that his mum's hard learned old habits never completely dies. 

Harry chews guiltily. 'I don't blame her though.'

Nick takes another chip silently.

'We haven't really been together since Easter, but we just stayed together for appearances sake,' Harry tells him. 'It was easier that way for everyone. But she's always said that if I wanted to have a boyfriend I should tell the public before anything was definite. In hindsight, I probably should've.' 

'But-' Nick asks. 

'But it was so nice, keeping everyone guessing,’ Harry says guiltily, interrupting. ‘I wanted you to myself.’ 

Nick smiles despite himself. ‘It didn’t end up very practical, did it?’ 

Harry snorts/coughs a ‘no’ and takes another bite. 

Nick stares at him silently for a moment, taking in the tiredness clinging to Harry’s eyes, the way his shoulders are slumping further the later it gets. ‘What happened back in 2010, Harold?’ he asks nervously. ‘Did we have sex?’

‘Of course,’ Harry states with a grin. 

‘I weren’t very skinny back then though, all pudgy and the like,’ Nick mutters. 

Harry claps his hand, which is a bit grease-stained and disgusting. Nick doesn’t let go. ‘I guess I just fancied you then.’ 

Nick rolls his eyes sarcastically. 

‘I was playing a show, backing up Ed and Louis and Zayn were around, you know, and I hadn’t seen them in ages,’ Harry tells him slowly. ‘They brought their friends from work, since it was like the only free weekend you’d had in ages. We all went back to Aimee’s after the gig and kept on drinking.’

Nick can’t even conjure up Harry in his and Aimee’s old apartment and still feels like a helpless slag. 

‘We went into your room and Louis was just glaring at me, but you know tequila makes for bad decisions,’ Harry continues. ‘And we had sex. I’d only ever had awkward fumbles with a bloke from school. You were quite the revelation.’ 

‘I’m drunk on my arse and I’ve no clue what clothes you were wearing and I was still some sort of sexual revelation?’ Nick says unimpressed. ‘I’m such a slag, me.’

‘We finished, I left my number in your phone and you never wrote me back,’ Harry says with a shrug. ‘Louis’ hated you ever since.’ 

Nick hums distastefully at his own drunk decisions (the tequila and the under eighteen bloke) and feels sort of relieved. He knows now. He wrote his letter to the public before he knew Harry’s version, so he didn’t lie one bit in it. He’ll know what he can omit telling the public (everything) and confirm that yes the kissing bit had actually happened. 

‘At least Louis doesn’t just hate my face,’ Nick relents. ‘I really thought he just hated my personality.’

‘He does a bit to be honest,’ Harry says truthfully and with a tiny shrug. ‘He thinks you’re a bit full of yourself.’

‘Well, that’s hardly news,’ Nick says. 

They clean the leftover McDonalds away and tumble into bed with no grace. They should probably take a shower and do their nightlies before falling asleep, but they take one look at each other and silently agreeing on not bothering. 

‘Do you think we’ll be alright?’ Harry whispers into the darkness, skin against skin, all snuggled up together. His voice is deeper than usual and Nick trails his fingers over Harry’s skin, feels the tiny shivers that follow.

‘I don’t want to give it up,’ Nick replies honestly. 

‘Me neither,’ Harry agrees. ‘It’ll be a spectacle, though.’ 

‘I’ve always liked my face. People should be seeing it more,’ Nick says. ‘If they want it, we’ll give it.’

‘Yeah,’ Harry says and not long after, he’s dead asleep. 

Nick knows it’s not that easy. He’s over thirty, he’s been around the block and he knows what the media does to be people who are weak. He refuses to be a victim, but knows that he will be an easy one, knows that his circle of friends will make people judge him more than they already are. He wants to work hard and prove everyone wrong. He wants to put Harry faith in him to the forefront and be everything he wants to be and prove himself again and again. He wants to be someone people will say ‘that Nick Grimshaw, he’s done all right for himself’. He wants his mum and dad to be proud of him and he wants Harry.

He wants the cheeky sod that got him to sleep with him when he was sixteen and then spent weeks playing into his every fantasy so Nick would stare at him one night after a trip to McDonalds. And still through all the trust issues they have yet to figure out, he wants Harry to tell the world that ‘yes, that bloke’s my boyfriend and he’s the one I want above all else’. 

He’s getting a bit ahead of himself though. Tomorrow’s a new day, but the problems are still there. Harry’s asleep in his arms, content and worry softening, and that’s a least one tick of that list. 

In the immortal words of Iggy Azalea, bad bitch extraordinaire:

 

No time to waste  
Amazing grace, embrace the place  
You basic bitch, get out my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end folks for now. More is being written for all the could be interested. So if you want to figure out if 1D won x-factor in this universe, if there is still an epic birthday party and an even more epic post-brits show... stay tuned, you classy people.
> 
> Lyrics belongs to 'My World' from the flawless EP Ignorant Art by Iggy Azalea.

**Author's Note:**

> this work has not been beta'd. my knowledge of day to day life at a conference hotel is my own work experience.  
> i also do not own any of these real life people and still feel a bit prickly about the whole thing. honest.  
> this'll be part of a longer thing, so enjoy the ride as much as i am.
> 
> can be found on tumblr as onereinacadeea (1D and Grimmy primarely) and reinacadeea (everything else)


End file.
